


Welcome Travelers

by SusanaR



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe G version (DH AU G) [45]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Backstory, Best Friends, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Love, F/M, Family Drama, Family History, Friendship, Gen, Reunions, Sailing To Valinor, Sibling Bonding, Tol Eressëa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:06:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/SusanaR
Summary: Gimli and Legolas and their companions arrive in the West to great celebration and many reunions. Many are joyous, but some are just awkward, for not everything in the West is perfect!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story is set in about Fourth Age 120 or 121. In my AU, Mithiriel is one of Faramir and Eowyn’s daughters, and Theli (Ecthelion) is a friend and cousin of Legolas and Elrond, the grandson of Elurin of Doriath, Elrond’s uncle.
> 
> This story is a direct sequel to “Songs on the Straight Road," available here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10173407/chapters/22597367

On the morning of the last day of their voyage on the Straight Road, the ship’s look-out spotted billowing white sails coming towards them from the West.

“A westward vessel that got turned around?” Legolas wondered.

“Nay, your highness,” Captain Nemiron said respectfully, “’Tis a close-to-shore ship, not one large enough to have been made to brave the open seas.”

“Well,” said Mithiriel after a deep breath, “I suppose it is time for us all to get dressed. Captain Nemiron, I finished that new tunic for you, but I really do think that you should wear the aquamarine and pearl beads woven into your sailor’s braids, rather than the gold and topaz.”

The captain, flushing with pleasure, hastened to offer his thanks, while Legolas advised with a laugh, “It will be easier if you do as she says.”

Mithiriel cast him a Mildly Disapproving Look, which caused Legolas to raise his hands in apology and hasten below decks to don his own finery.

Within less than a quarter of an hour they were all, including the humblest sailor, assembled on the deck for Mithiriel’s inspection. 

Gimli was more than comfortable that he’d pass muster, especially after having given Mithiriel free rein to embellish his clothing to her satisfaction. He wore a persian blue silk shirt, butter-soft suede pants dyed a dark charcoal gray, and a surcoat of rich burgundy velvet. The surcoat gleamed with golden embroidery and tiny jewels that Mithiriel had pestered Gimli into fitting out as beads so that she could sew them into the embroidery. The burgundy velvet provided a dramatic backdrop for the embroidered designs denoting Gimli’s Lordship of Aglarond, duties in Erebor, and membership in the House of Durin. Mithiriel had used small sapphires, dark blue tanzanites, deep green aventurines, dark violet chaorites, and garnets in her designs. She’d also used some small onyx beads that had previously been part of one of her own hair ornaments, because she said that the glossy black onyx added to the drama of the gold and jewels against the burgundy velvet. Gimli had decided that it was best not to argue.

Around his neck Gimli wore a thick golden chain of office, with seals denoting that he had served Thorin Oakenshield, Dain II Ironfoot, and Thorin III Stonehelm. Around his waist he wore a belt of linked square cut jewels, including sapphires, emeralds, amethysts, rubies, garnets, diamonds, and aventurines. The links of the belt had been birthday presents from his parents over a number of years.

Where the precious gems woven into the warrior braids of his elven companions were modest, even smaller than the jeweled beads he'd made for Mithiriel, Gimli wore large rings of worked gold, tanzanite, aventurine, charoite and onyx in the braids of his beard. He wore no rings at all on his axe hand, but on his writing hand he wore three rings. The first was a black opal from Theli, Mithiriel, and Mithiriel's family, set in gold mined in Aglarond. The second was an aventurine found in Aglarond, a gift from Gimli’s niece and nephew, set in heavy gold from Erebor, which had been a gift from his Aunt Dis. The ring he wore on his smallest finger was a moonstone set in white gold. The stone had been one of several coming-of-age gifts Legolas had received from his cousins Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn on the occasion of his fiftieth birthday. At that time, the moonstone had been set in a ring of mithril. Legolas had given the metal of the ring to his father to melt down to make mithril mail for the royal guards. But Legolas had liked and kept the moonstone, and so his father Thranduil had arranged for the stone to be re-set in white gold. Legolas had given the ring to Gimli on the occasion of the first anniversary of the founding of Aglarond. 

Although no one outshone Gimli for sheer sartorial splendor, Erestor did look resplendently noble in his elegant garments. He wore an open robe in a rich burgundy velvet over a tunic of the same fabric in a shade of burnt umber. His leggings were a warm, chocolate brown, and his fine boots just a shade darker than that. His tunic and robe featured gold and amber embroidery. He wore a gold chain of office with jeweled seals proclaiming him a councilor of both Lindon and Imladris, which Mithiriel quietly informed Legolas and Gimli had been a gift commissioned by Elrond and designed and made by Erestor’s wife Taminixe. Despite some coaxing from Legolas and Theli, who both firmly believed that Erestor had earned the right to wear warrior’s braids, Erestor had chosen to wear his hair in a style favored by scholars, half-pulled back with a bit of black velvet ribbon, which was barely distinguishable against the backdrop of his raven hair. On either side of Erestor’s shoulders, his robes were held open by emerald brooches, each with a golden starburst at its heart. It was, Gimli know, a sigil of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin, Erestor’s famous grandfather Glorfindel’s house. On his left hand, Erestor wore a simple diamond ring. 

“I think I saw your picture in a book once,” Legolas teased Erestor quietly, “It was captioned, ‘stereotypical stuffy Noldorin lord.’”

“Hmm, was this in a book in your father’s library?” Erestor teased back, “and if so, was it defaced by a scowling tree?”

“I don’t think that you have any room to go calling Erestor too pretty,” Gimli teased Legolas, “Not when you look like a laurel in spring time that someone decided to bedeck like a Yule tree.”

“Oh, he does not,” Mithiriel objected, “Legolas looks much the same as he did in the portraits of my grandparents’ wedding, and I happen to know that Lady Galadriel chose his clothing for that occasion.”

“So there,” retorted Legolas with a smile. And Gimli had to concede the point. Legolas did indeed look very much as he had on that long ago happy day, with the only exception being that the center of his silver circlet now featured a small circular green aventurine. The stone had been a gift from Gimli’s niece Disla, who had found it on a cavern floor in Aglarond along with the one she'd given to Gimli, and from Gimli’s nephew Sindri, who had cut the gem and polished it. Legolas' warrior’s braids were interwoven with small sapphires, diamonds, emeralds, all gifts from his father and foster-brother, and with small polished stones from the rivers of the Greenwood and Ithilien. On his right hand Legolas wore a mithril ring set with moonstone, a gift from Gimli. 

Mithiriel resembled nothing so much as a sea sprite from a fairy tale. The color of her thin iridescent silk gown was what Mithiriel described as “sea-change blue,” and it did indeed look like the ocean. Blue one moment, and green the next, the fabric clung tightly to the curves of Mithiriel’s breasts and chest then flared out slightly below her waist. The silken hem, embroidered with gold thread and seed pearls, reached down to just above her well-made but practical leather sandals. Around her neck she wore a precious dark opal on a golden chain. The large gem boldly glimmered blue, green, and gold as well as black in the light of the sun. The slender gold ring on Mithiriel’s finger boasted a matching circular opal, and her earrings were each a short string of three small pearls from which dripped tear-shaped opals of the same shade.

Mithiriel’s brow was bound by no precious metal circlet, even though she was the granddaughter of a king, the daughter of a prince, the wife of a royal lord, and a former ruling lady of Imladris in her own right. Instead, her golden-red curls were mostly loose, just held back from her face by two lengths of hair braided with strings of seed pearls and sea-colored glass beads. The two braids were tied together in the back with a silk ribbon matching her dress, in a way forming a whimsical, unique crown of their own. With every step Mithiriel took, the merry chiming of little bells could be heard. When Gimli asked why, Mithiriel lifted up her skirt a handspan to reveal a chain of small silvery bells and blue and green cat’s eye jade beads encircling her left ankle. 

Even the most junior of the ship’s crewmembers, a cabin boy of only just fifty-one years of age, wore fine linen and semi-precious gems around his neck and in his hair. All of the sailors sported beautiful and tasteful touches of nautically themed embroidery, courtesy of Mithiriel’s generosity, paired with her having failed to pack enough books to read during the voyage. She had even found the time to embroider a small tapestry for Gimli and Legolas depicting their fight with the kraken.

“It wasn’t physically possible for Lady Difficult to pack enough books to read,” Legolas had jested, after Mithiriel had finished exhausting not only her own reading material but also all of theirs, including Erestor’s and all of the crew’s.

Even Mithiriel’s loving husband had to concur that it was probably so, even after he had kindly offered to give her the storage space he was planning to use for his own formal clothing!

How fine of a showing Theli made when dressed to impress was a surprise to Legolas, if not to Gimli. Theli, like Erestor, wore an open robe, only Theli’s was the midnight blue and silver of old Doriath. His finely cut tunic was moonstone blue with silver and midnight blue embroidery. Gimli noted absently that the varying shades emphasized the extraordinary deep blue shade of Theli’s eyes. Around his neck on a thin silver chain Theli wore a tiny silver moonstone ring, the same ring that his grandfather Elurin Diorchil had worn when he fled into the forest during the kinslaying at Doriath. The shoulder brooches holding Theli’s robe open were silver, with the quartered emblems of the Greenwood, Lorien, Ithilien, and Imladris.

Theli wore warrior braids in his ash brown hair, similarly adorned to those of Legolas but in a slightly different style. As a healer who had traveled so much in uncertain and hazardous locales, he wore his hair relatively short for an elf. When it wasn’t pulled back, it fell in wavy curls to just past his shoulders. Now, he wore three small warrior’s braids on each side of his head, with his loose hair and the ends of the braids all pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. 

The former lord of Aglarond had seen the former ambassador of the Greenwood in his finery before. But come to think of it, Gimli realized that Legolas had never been present on any of those occasions.

“What, tithen-Las?” Theli teased Legolas, “You’ve never seen me play the royal lord before? Most of the pretending that I don’t know how to is for Thranduil’s benefit, you know. It’s a funny joke that we have.”

Legolas tilted his head and asked with a bemused smile, “Does Ada know that, or is it a funny joke on him?”

“Thranduil knows,” Theli assured Legolas with a grin, “It still drives him crazy, or it wouldn’t be as much fun. But he does know.”

It took what felt like hours but was in fact only forty-five minutes for the shoreline ship to pull up alongside them. A gently smiling elf in sailor’s garb introduced himself as Gollaeron Bellaeronchil, the captain of the ship the Laughing Dolphin in the Lady Andreth Elrondiel’s Eastern Fleet of Avallone.

“Gollaeron Bellaeronchil?” Captain Nemiron called back across to the other ship, “The former harbormaster of Lindon’s only son?”

Captain Gollaeron grinned back at them, “Aye, that Bellaeron is my father. I work for him again now, he’s the harbormaster in Avallone.”

“Captain Gollaeron died trying to rescue King Arvedui of Arthedain during the war between Angmar and Arthedain,” Erestor murmured just loudly enough for the four of them to hear, “His father, Lord Bellaeron, sailed from Lindon not long after that war ended. Bellaeron had served Ereinion Gil-galad well as a ship captain during the War of Wrath, and then as harbor master and council lord during the Second Age and the beginning of the Third Age. This Gollaeron is a friendly acquaintance of my son Melpomaen.”

“May I have your permission to come aboard, Captain . . . .?” Gollaeron petitioned.

Captain Nemiron, apparently realizing that he’d forgotten to give the other elf his name, immediately rectified that error and invited Captain Gollaeron aboard their vessel. It was odd for Gimli to see the normally self-possessed Captain Nemiron so off-step. But then Gimli supposed that he would be nearly beside himself to meet a dead hero, as well.

The crew of the Laughing Dolphin placed a sturdy wooden railed walkway between the two ships. Captain Gollaeron crossed it first, followed by a finely dressed elf whom Gollaeron introduced as Lord Alyaro, the official greeter from Aman. 

The dazed Captain Nemiron pointed the greeter, a dark-haired elf in lavender robes, in the direction of his passengers, while Nemiron himself began an animated conversation with Captain Gollaeron Bellaeronchil.

The fussy looking greeter elf in the fancy purple and gold outfit looked at the motley crew of six passengers and then paused, as if confused.

“Who among you is the highest ranking?” he asked querulously.

Captain Gollaeron Bellaeronchil, who had seemingly overheard this, winced. But apparently his job was to captain the ship, and Lord Fussy’s job was to greet the passengers. 

In answer to Lord Fussy’s question, Master Sarphen raised his hands in a classic ‘not me’ gesture. Gimli, seeing this, laughed and copied it.

Meanwhile, Legolas, Erestor, Theli, and Mithiriel were exchanging questioning glances with one another. Theli chuckled, Mithiriel shook her head, and Gimli grinned in anticipation. Then Erestor pointed at Theli, Theli pointed at Legolas, and Legolas pointed at Erestor, and all three of them said in perfect chorus, “He is!”

This response, while highly amusing to the three of them and hilarious to Gimli, was evidently not what Lord Fussy was accustomed to.

“Hem, hem,” he cleared his throat, “A master craftsman,” he nodded towards Master Sarphen, seemingly pleased that he could at least identify someone by caste solely based on appearance, “and three elven lords of some persuasion, and a . . . human? And a . . . large, hairy hobbit? This is all highly, highly irregular! Surely someone must know who is in charge!”

It was going to be, Gimli thought to himself, one of those mornings.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote:
> 
> “Of the Three Rings that the Elves had preserved unsullied no open word was ever spoken among the Wise, and few even of the Eldar knew where they were bestowed. Yet after the fall of Sauron their power was ever at work, and where they abode there mirth also dwelt and all things were unstained by the griefs of time. Therefore ere the Third Age was ended the Elves perceived that the Ring of Sapphire was with Elrond, in the fair valley of Rivendell, upon whose house the stars of heaven most brightly shone; whereas the Ring of Adamant was in the Land of Lórien where dwelt the Lady Galadriel. A queen she was of the woodland Elves, the wife of Celeborn of Doriath, yet she herself was of the Noldor and remembered the Day before days in Valinor, and she was the mightiest and fairest of all the Elves that remained in Middle-earth. But the Red Ring remained hidden until the end, and none save Elrond and Galadriel and Cirdan knew to whom it had been committed.
> 
> Thus it was that in two domains the bliss and beauty of the Elves remained still undiminished while that Age endured: in Imladris; and in Lothlórien, the hidden land between Celebrant and Anduin, where the trees bore flowers of gold and no Orc or evil thing dared ever come. Yet many voices were heard among the Elves foreboding that, if Sauron should come again, then either he would find the Ruling Ring that was lost, or at the best his enemies would discover it and destroy it; but in either chance the powers of the Three must then fail and all things maintained by them must fade, and so the Elves should pass into the twilight and the Dominion of Men begin. And so indeed it has since befallen: the One and the Seven and the Nine are destroyed; and the Three have passed away, and with them the Third Age is ended, and the Tales of the Eldar in Middle-earth draw to then-close.” - JRR Tolkien

Lord Alyaro, or Lord Fussy, as Gimli had decided to continue to call him, apparently was at his wit’s end dealing with their group. It didn’t seem to have been a long journey! Fussy called out to Captain Gollaeron for help.

The elven sea captain seemed almost relieved to have the opportunity to intervene. Gimli wondered what kind of foolish system had sent out a capable elf like Gollaearon in a ship to meet elves coming from Middle Earth, and then saddled him with a rank-polishing idiot like Lord Fussy. Unlike the violet-clad elven lord with his pinched expression, Captain Gollaeron actually looked like greeting elves from Middle Earth was what he’d wanted to be doing with his day. In fact, his cheerful grin broadened even further when he saw Erestor.

“Why, if it isn’t Lord Erestor Arandilion of the House of the Golden Flower! Welcome to the West, father of my old friend!

Fussy, looking partially soothed, jotted something down on his scroll. “Very well. A great-great-great nephew of King Arafinwe is the ranking member of your party. All you need have done was say so.”

Erestor, after exchanging a warrior’s arm clasp with Captain Gollaeron, mildly interjected, “Well, I didn’t know that I was related to King Arafinwe until just before we set sail, and . . . ”

Captain Gollaeron interrupted Erestor with a golden laugh, then said, “Neither did your father Arandil, until well after he arrived in Avallone. And you should have heard the names he called your noble grandfather after he found out that he was a King’s great-great-grandson, and that your grandfather Lord Glorfindel had already known of that, and had deemed it unnecessary to ever tell his son of it!”

Erestor and Theli, who had also known Erestor’s father Lord Arandil, both chuckled at that.

“I’m sure that Atar was quite taken aback,” Erestor agreed, “Anatar Glorfindel and Atar do so enjoy their little games. But I am afraid that I do not feel myself to be the highest ranking member of our party. I believe that my dear friend Lord Ecthelion Diorchil,” Erestor gestured gracefully towards Theli, “who is the grandson of the former King Dior Eluchil of Doriath, as well as himself the former lord-consort of Imladris, would be the highest ranking of our party.”

Captain Gollaeron whistled, “Dior Eluchil would also be the current reigning king of Doriath Gaeronwest, the Kingdom of Doriath on Tol Eressea. So tell me, Lord Alyaro,” Gollaeron asked, turning to Lord Fussy, “Would the grandson of the younger son of the second most senior kingdom of Tol Eressea outrank the great-great-great nephew of King Arafinwe’s older sister?”

Lord Fussy appeared to be out of his depth again. He pursed his thin, aristocratic lips, then reluctantly admitted, “I am not sure. The question has never arisen before.”

“It is my pleasure to meet you both,” Theli said to Gollaeron and Alyaro, “and to introduce you to my lovely wife, her highness the Lady Mithiriel of Ithilien, granddaughter of Elessar Telcontar, first King of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor and long-son of Elros Tar-Minyatur, and daughter of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and his White Lady Eowyn, the Witch-King Slayer. Mithiriel herself is lately the ruling Lady of the independent city of Imladris.”

“She’s a human,” noted Lord Fussy with a sniff, “and human ranks have no bearing in Aman. Or even in Tol Eressea, for that matter.” 

“I wouldn’t have expected that they would,” Theli soothed, with no hint of his true feelings on the matter escaping his pleasantly neutral expression, “However, I must further complicate the matter of rank by introducing my dear cousin his highness Legolas Thranduilon, crown prince of the Greenwood, the largest and most populous elven kingdom on Middle Earth. Prince Legolas is the youngest son of Aran Thranduil of the Greenwood. I believe Prince Legolas to be the highest ranking member of our party.”

“It is a pleasure to meet a war hero such as your highness,” Captain Gollaeron said admiringly to Legolas, then informed him that, “Your grandfather Oropher is the current reigning King of Eryn Brongalen, the enduring Kingdom of the Greenwood in Tol Eressea.”

Lord Fussy, meanwhile, did not appear to be honored to meet Legolas. Instead, he was frowning down at his scroll. “But Prince Legolas is the youngest son of a youngest son!” he objected, “And Greenwood is the second youngest Kingdom on Tol Eressea!”

“Prince Legolas is a member of the Fellowship of the Ring,” Captain Gollaeron corrected patiently, “And as such outranks every member of this party save perhaps his dwarven companion.” Captain Gollaeron turned to face Gimli, friendly curiosity plain on his handsome face.

“My apologies,” Legolas said smoothly, “I am tardy in introducing you to my friend and sworn brother, Lord Gimli son of Gloin, former Lord of Aglarond, and likewise a member of the Fellowship of the Ring.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Gimli,” said Captain Gollaeron, as Lord Fussy once again glared at his scroll.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance as well, Captain Gollaeron,” Gimli replied politely. After all, Lord Fussy’s idiocy wasn’t Captain Gollaeron’s fault, and Gollaeron seemed a good-enough sort himself. Anyone who greeted Erestor fondly and called Erestor’s gracious son Melpomaen his friend couldn’t be all that bad, in Gimli’s opinion.

“Now, if you please,” Gimli asked, “could you let us know what the schedule is for getting us back on to dry land? Captain Nemiron has been a wonderful host, but I am ready to set my legs on solid earth for a time.”

Before Captain Gollaeron could answer, a white dove flew over the cresting waves to their party. The graceful bird alighted on the good Captain Gollaeron’s shoulder.

“I believe I may just have been sent an answer to your query, Lord Gimli,” said Gollaeron in a bemused tone as he removed a message from the messenger tube tied around the bird’s ankle.

After quickly reading the message, Captain Gollaeron answered, “Ah, here it is! Lord Gimli, Prince Legolas, Prince Ecthelion, Princess Mithiriel, and Lord Erestor will join me on the Laughing Dolphin. Then we are to proceed directly to the harbor at Amrun Calaer, to rendezvous with the Princess Galadriel Arafinwiel and her party, who are being hosted there by the Lady Calasse.”

Turning to the speechless Lord Fussy, Captain Gollaeron directed, “Lord Alyaro, you and my first mate are to stay here with Captain Nemiron, and guide his ship into Avallone. I’ll send a bird to my father the harbormaster to let him know that you’re on your way. He’ll send a ship out to meet you as soon as he can.

Gimli’s heart leapt at the mention of Lady Galadriel’s name. The last time he had seen her, she had been boarding a ship on the Anduin with Lord Elrond and Gandalf. She had appeared then still pleased for their victory, but so tired from her efforts and sad at leaving her family that Gimli’s heart had ached for her. Without the Lady Galadriel’s assistance, it would have been much more difficult for Gimli to have sailed. Instead, his Lady had foreseen that this day might come, and had given him the potion to let him keep his youth until it came. And now, she had made it possible for him and his companions to bypass the annoyance of Lord Fussy and proceed directly to meet her.

Legolas’ elbow gently bumped into Gimli’s shoulder to get his attention. The expression in his elven brother’s eyes was supportive and affectionate, for Legolas knew what Galadriel meant to Gimli. There was also the merest hint of humor in those familiar laurel-green eyes. Seeing that, Gimli counted himself lucky that Legolas had managed to suppress his desire to jest by comparing Gimli’s sense of nervous excitement at the thought of seeing Galadriel again to the emotions experienced by an anxious bridegroom. After all, Gimli had no true desire to throw Legolas overboard again!

Erestor seemed quite pleased at the thought of reuniting with his former foster-mother Galadriel. Although Gimli also suspected that Erestor was in truth so much hoping to see his lost wife, and possibly also his best friends Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian, that Galadriel wasn’t much more than a pleasant after-thought to him. 

At the mention of Lady Galadriel’s name, Mithiriel appeared not only intrigued, but also unaccustomedly shy, though only if one knew her well.

Theli’s chagrined wariness, on the other hand, was obvious to all.

Legolas laughed and punched Theli lightly on the shoulder. “Our impressive cousin is hardly going to have an opportunity to try to give you mind- speech lessons today, Theli.”

“Sweet Valar, I do hope not,” Theli murmured fervently.

Lord Fussy, on the other hand, was red-faced in mingled incomprehension and outrage.

“The Princess Galadriel!” he exclaimed shrilly, “But she doesn’t even leave the Lorien Gardens to attend her father the Noldaran’s court in Tirion!”

Gollaeron’s first mate took on the thankless job of trying to soothe Lord Fussy, while the competent captain himself began directing his crew and Nemiron’s to move the belongings of Gimli and his companions over to the Laughing Dolphin. 

Gimli didn’t care at all about Lord Fussy’s displeasure, but the wording of his objection was somewhat concerning to Gimli. He knew enough of Aman to know that the Lorien Gardens were a place of healing. That brought to Gimli’s mind the weariness that he had seen in his Lady Galadriel's noble and beauteous countenance when she left Middle Earth. It also reminded him of a conversation he’d had with his Lady’s husband Celeborn before himself setting sail from Middle Earth with Legolas.

Celeborn and Gimli had reached a mutually respectful détente even before Lady Galadriel sailed. But as the years rolled on, that wary respect and determination to keep the peace for Galadriel’s sake had grown into an odd kind of friendship. Gimli had found that it was difficult for two beings to deeply love the same woman, even in very different ways, without finding that they had enough in common to become friends. Among other things, Gimli had to respect Celeborn’s good sense in having had the wisdom to expend a great deal of effort convincing Galadriel to marry him.

Gimli had also come to respect the depth of Celeborn’s love and devotion to his wife, and the terrible grief Celeborn felt at their separation. Gimli had come to understand that Galadriel and Celeborn loved one another dearly, but both loved their duties, as well. To the two great elves, the word “duty” was quite all-encompassing. It meant their duties to their family, half on one side of the sea in the West with Celebrian, Elrond and Andreth, and half on Middle Earth with their adopted sons Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil, and their families. And it also meant their duties to their peoples, and to all of Middle Earth.

It was those last duties which Galadriel had worn herself thin in fulfilling by using the ring Nenya to enhance her own power to keep Lothlorien safe from Sauron. By the end of the Ring War, the lady had exhausted herself completely, and had sailed for the good of her own health, as well as to keep the other ringbearers company. Celeborn, who still had strength left, had stayed, to care for their sons and for their people, as they moved from Lothlorien to the south of the Greenwood to cleanse the wood there. 

Not long before Aragorn died, Celeborn had invited Gimli to play chess with him in his guest chamber at Faramir’s Emyn Arnen manor house. As they drank mulled wine before a warm fire, Celeborn had told Gimli more of what it meant for Gimli to have been accepted by his wife Galadriel as her champion.

“It is not something that a normal wife would do without first asking her husband’s leave,” Celeborn had explained with a wry, affectionate smile, “But I married Galadriel in part because I loved that in her which was not what one might usually expect in an elleth. But you must understand, Gimli, that by acknowledging you as her champion, Galadriel has given you guesting right in all of her – our - homes in the West.”

Even as Gimli immediately protested that he would ever expect anything of his lady beyond that she let him protect her when she had need, Celeborn shook his head.

“Calm thyself, Gimli. I know well that you did not make your gallant offer expecting anything in return. But nevertheless, under law and custom, you are entitled to guest right, and to certain other small allowances and privileges. And . . .,” here the elven lord hesitated, before carefully continuing, “I suspect that a champion of my dearly beloved Lady may be called upon to do more to earn such privileges than a champion of almost any other elf in the West. For not all elves in Aman are good-hearted, and my Lady already has amongst those who are not several enemies. Whether they will believe she is a danger to them or not, I do not know. But it is in her nature to court danger if she must, in order to protect those who need protecting.” 

Greatly concerned for his Lady’s safety by this confession, Gimli abruptly commanded, “Speak plainly, Celeborn! I must know enough to keep our Lady safe from such threats.”

Gimli was particularly concerned given that he was completely unfamiliar with the West, and didn’t know who he could count on to help him with such a vital task as keeping Lady Galadriel safe. Well, other than Legolas of course. And probably also Lord Elrond, whom Gimli knew was very fond of his aunt and mother-by-law. And possibly also Gandalf, for whatever help the wizard would be. Gimli recalled that Gandalf had always treated Galadriel as an old friend.

“I cannot be more plain without compromising secrets which are not mine to tell,” Celeborn said chillingly, “But I feel the need to warn you, first, that my Lady may well need your axe at some point in the future. And also to tell you . . . something that I believe you may already have suspected. Bearing the ring of power Nenya sapped my Lady’s health and strength greatly.”

“Aye, so she herself mentioned,” Gimli confessed in pensive sorrow, “She told both me and Faramir that she had woven the ring’s power in and throughout her own in order to better protect Lothlorien from Sauron. Doing so was dangerous and draining, but it enabled her to face Sauron's shade on closer to equal footing when needed. She said that giving up Nenya into the keeping of the Valar, as she intended to do upon arriving in the West, would weaken her greatly.”

“She spoke truly,” said Celeborn gravely, “And I must caution you that she may not fully have healed, even by now.”

“I am sorry for that, but I am her dwarf,” said Gimli staunchly, “And I will be there for her whenever she needs me, for whatsoever service I can do for her, no matter how healthy she is or isn’t.”

Content with that promise, Celeborn had returned to their chess game.

As Gimli worried over his lady, he listened with half an ear to the conversations going on around him.

Mithiriel, Erestor, and Legolas were plying Captain Gollaeron and several of the other sailors with questions about the geography and politics of Tol Eressea and Aman proper, which apparently were two different places entirely in many ways.

“There are five different kingdoms on Tol Eressea,” Captain Gollaeron explained genially, with the air of someone who had given the same speech many times but didn’t mind doing it again, “as well as the independent city of Avallone, and Marillaeglir.”

“The first of the five kingdoms of Tol Eressea is Anderserme,” Gollaeron continued, “which is the kingdom of the friends of Men. It was founded by the elves who had followed Finrod Felagund to Middle Earth and dwelled in Nargothorond and then in Balar and Lindon. The second is Doriath Gaeronwest, founded by elves of Doriath who either sailed or were reborn after the First Age. The third kingdom is Gondolin Earrilye, founded by elves who were reborn after the Fall of Gondolin. The fourth kingdom, Eryn Brongalen, was founded by elves from the Greenwood who died during the War of the Last Alliance and were reborn here afterward. The newest kingdom of Tol Eressea is Galador Annun, founded by King Amroth and Queen Nimrodel, and mainly peopled by elves who once lived in Lothlorien.”

“And Marillaeglir?” Mithiriel asked.

“Marillaeglir was the answer to a knotty political problem,” explained one of the older sailors, “The three kingdoms of Aman proper – the kingdoms of the Vanyar, the Noldor, and the Lindar – found it troublesome to have to deal with five separate ‘lesser’ kingdoms on Tol Eressea. That, and they’d tired of having to contribute funds and elves to the running of Avallone, where the ships from the East arrive. So, the Crown Princess Rissaurel Ereinionchil, oldest daughter of King Ereinion Gil-galad of Anderserme, proposed that the five kingdoms of Tol Eressea elect two elves to serve as leaders for all five kingdoms of Tol Eressea and for Avallone. Eventually the rulers and councils of the five kingdoms came around to agreeing with her highness’s plan.”

“So,” the sailor continued, “the city and lands of Marillaeglir were founded on the western coast of Tol Eressea, facing Aman. And the first Yen King and Queen of Marillaeglir, King Elured and Queen Anwen, were elected to administer to certain matters pertaining to all five kingdoms of Tol Eressea, and to Avallone, and to the nomadic settlements of the Laiquendi, and lastly to the unclaimed lands of Tol Eressea, for the next yen. Every 144 years, new rulers from a different one of the five Kingdoms will be elected to serve as King and Queen of Marillaeglir.”

“Elured of Doriath is the current Yen-King of this Marillaeglir?” asked Legolas, with a bemused glance towards Theli. Gimli could well understand why Legolas might be taken aback. For at least four of the past five centuries, Legolas had outranked Theli by a great degree. That the shoe might now be on the other foot, even though Legolas didn’t begrudge it at all, was quite something.

“Aye,” agreed Gollaeron, also looking to Theli and then addressing him, “King Elured is your great uncle, is he not, Prince Ecthelion?”

Theli, who was one of the least-status conscious beings Gimli had ever met, barely kept from wincing. “Please, Captain Gollaeron, call me Theli. I’m never addressed as Ecthelion unless I’ve caused some minor disaster.”

“If you prefer, Lord Theli,” Gollaeron acknowledged, apparently disinclined to be any more informal than that. 

“I do,” Theli confirmed with his usual friendly, humble smile, his wife’s slender hand firmly clasped in his, “And I’ve never met my Great-Uncle Elured. My own grandfather Eldun, born Elurin of Doriath, rarely spoke of him. My friends Nallos Canyavasion and his wife Serenwen, as well as Elured’s son, my cousin Elissed, always had many good things to say about Elured, both as an elf and as a warrior in the War of Wrath. Although they called him by the name he used on Middle Earth, which was Elboron.”

“I’ve only met Prince – now King – Elured a few times,” Gollaeron said, “But he always impressed me as a kind and practical fellow, as well as a natural leader. He is highly thought of here in Tol Eressea. He has several different times in the past ruled the Kingdom of Doriath Gaeronwest as King in his own right, with Queen Anwen by his side. When rulers were needed for Marillaeglir for the first time, Elured’s was one of the first names to come up.”

It occurred to Gimli as he listened that it must be strange for Theli, and for Legolas, to have every elf and his brother know more about their family in the West than they did.

“It should have been Princess Idril and Prince Tuor to rule Marillaeglir,” countered the old sailor, “They have more experience. Or Princess Rissaurel, who argued for Marillaeglir to exist in the first place.” 

Gimli spared a moment to wonder to himself when he’d gotten familiar enough with elves to recognize the sailor who had just spoken as being Captain Gollaeron’s elder by a fair degree. It was something about the sailor elf’s eyes, perhaps, coupled with the way he readily spoke up even when his words were not in accord with his Captain’s. But in any case, Gimli could tell.

“That may be,” Gollaeron said gently to his crew member, with an embarrassed glance towards Mithiriel, “But some elves are still cautious of female rulers.”

“And of humans, I am sure,” said Mithiriel lightly, no trace of whatever her true thoughts might be present in her voice or pleasant listening expression, “After all, Tol Eressea is an island of elves, not Men.”

The old sailor shook his head, “Could have been either reason, I suppose, your highness. Princess Idril and Princess Nimrodel are the only two females to have even ever been co-rulers of a Kingdom in Tol Eressea, and there were still some who didn’t care for it. And no Kingdom in Aman Proper has ever had a Queen regnant, not even as co-ruler.”

“What about Avallone?” Mithiriel asked with an intrigued smile, tactfully moving past the subject of prejudice against females and/or humans, “Does Marillaeglir now choose the rulers of Avallone and collect the tithes to support its operation?”

“Ah, yes,” Captain Gollaeron answered, seeming a bit taken aback by the thoroughness of Mithiriel’s question, “Although it is not required that the leadership of Avallone change every yen. It is sufficient that the existing ruler be confirmed again.”

“And that ruler is Lord Elrond’s older daughter Andreth?” Legolas asked, having heard Gollaeron’s initial introduction of himself as a captain in Lady Andreth Elrondiel’s Eastern Fleet of Avallone. Gimli remembered that Legolas had known Arwen’s older sister Andreth when he was young, before she was killed by orcs.

“Aye, she is,” said Gollaeron with a fond smile, “Our Lady Andreth has ruled Avallone since the founding of Marillaeglir over a decade ago. She governs with the assistance of her consort Lord Gelmir, who runs the educational programs for the newly arrived. You lot may be missing out on those, but I’m sure that someone will fill you in.”

“And how many fleets does Avallone have?” Mithiriel inquired brightly.

“Four,” Gollaeron informed them with a gratified smile, “First fleet, which is the messenger and diplomatic fleet. Every kingdom has one of those. Second fleet is the fishing and trading fleet. Anderserme has one, as does Marillaeglir now, but Doriath Gaeronwest, Gondolin Eariilye, Eryn Brongalen, and Galador Annun are all landlocked. Only Avallone has an Eastern fleet,” Gollaeron continued proudly, “It is the fleet of ships which welcomes elves coming from Middle Earth. The ships of Avallone’s Eastern Fleet are handpicked from Avallone’s Third Fleet, which is also called Rescue Fleet. Those are the ships that respond to distress calls from other ships, and from coastal towns. Anderserme has its own Rescue Fleet. And now Marillaeglir is in the process of creating a rescue fleet for the western half of Tol Eressea, while Avallone’s Rescue Fleet is being expanded so that it can operate throughout all the shores of the eastern half of Tol Eressea.” 

“An immense undertaking, I’m sure,” Mithiriel commented, clearly impressed. 

“It is,” Gollaeron agreed, “And we’re having trouble recruiting enough ellyn to keep up with the berthing requirements. No one wants to lower the high standards for acceptance into Rescue Fleet, of course. But they were originally written when there were only a few hundred spots total, such that Avallone could afford to be picky.”

“Perhaps you could satisfy a matter of curiosity for me, Captain Gollaeron,” Erestor interjected, “You mentioned that our host at our destination of Amrun Calaer is to be a Lady Calasse. I had never heard of her before, save that Lord Cirdan the Mariner gave me several packages to deliver into her hands and no other’s.”

“Our Lady Calasse is the eternal maiden of the sea,” the old sailor answered, even though Erestor’s question had been addressed to Gollaeron, “She is that same Lord Cirdan’s betrothed. They have been separated for ages, as she chose to go to Aman with her family, while he chose to stay and wait for his family in the Falas on Middle Earth.”

“Wow,” said Theli, for all of them.

“That is a very well kept secret in Middle Earth,” Erestor put in more tactfully. 

“It makes for a favorite romantic theatrical play here,” Gollaeron said apologetically, “the loving uncle, stuck on one side of the city, and his beautiful bride on the other, the both of them too dedicated to the people they lead to have forsaken them for one another.”

“Well, Great Uncle Cirdan has assured us that he will sail,” Mithiriel said bracingly, “So it is at least a play which should have a happy ending.”

“Indeed, your highness,” Captain Gollaeron agreed, and then shaded his eyes and looked out to the West, “Ah, there it is!” he called out, “The Lady Calasse’s harbor of Amun Calaer.”

The first thing Gimli saw was a tall stone light house tower. As their ship sailed closer to the shore, he saw that the tower was one of a number of outbuildings surrounding a large dwelling. The light house tower loomed up from along-side a rambling three four house built of dark, weather-treated wood and pale gray stone. The Lady Calasse’s home reminded Gimli to some extent of Faramir and Eowyn's Emyn Arnen manor home, which had grown hither and thither over the years to accommodate the ever expanding princely family and government of Ithilien. It had the look of a building which had become larger and more complicated than it had ever expected to be, yet had taken to that expansion with good grace and humor. The seaside hilltop did not look worse for its little collection of wooden and stone buildings. If anything, it looked more itself. 

As they sailed ever nearer the shore, Gimli saw that the house and its outbuildings were set on shamrock green grass with pine trees rising behind them. Calasse's hill top home with its lighthouse tower was on the far side of a crescent moon bay where purple-white sand met cerulean blue waters. A series of green pine-forested hills rose gently from the long beach. The hills were dotted here and there with one and two story buildings of the same pale gray stone. On a flat plateau above the lowest of the hills, a series of brightly colored pavilions had been set up. When the wind shifted, Gimli could smell the tantalizing scent of roasted meat - not fish! - coming from what looked like heavily laden tables under the pavilions. 

A broad light-blue river tumbled over limestone to spill into the nearer side of the bay, creating a natural harbor. Several long wooden docks stretched out into the sea from the river side of the bay. Ships of varying sizes flying different colorful flags bobbed up and down on the docks furthest from the beach. But on the dock nearest the beach a broad swath of the deck was empty, as if to give the ship on which Gimli and his companions were arriving pride of place. 

As they approached the dock, and Captain Gollaeron called out instructions to his crew to bring the ship up alongside the dock, Gimli could see that there were people gracefully moving around the pavilions. Some of them looked as they were setting out food and drink. Some appeared to be taking their ease. But most of them, and the most brightly dressed, were gathered at the edge of the plateau, looking at their arriving ship. There were about a hundred elves, all tolled, or so Gimli estimated. That number included eight or so figures standing on the beach, and just now walking towards the dock. Gimli stared at them through the distance. He couldn’t tell for sure from so far away, but he did not think any of the four figures clad in dresses were the Lady Galadriel. 

Their ship dropped anchor, and Captain Gollaeron's elves pulled out the same narrow but sturdy wooden bridge and placed it between the ship deck and the dock.

Freedom, within reach! For the first time in months, they would be off a boat which moved with the tides, and onto solid land! And yet, Gimli hesitated. Part of him expected Mithiriel and Theli, their group's experienced sailors, to hop off onto the dock first. 

But when he looked back at them, standing hand in hand together behind even Erestor, Theli just nodded towards the deck with a gentle, amused smile. 

Legolas stood at Gimli's right, where he'd stood for much of the past one hundred and twenty four years. Legolas took a deep breath, then looked over to Gimli, his laurel green eyes bright with excitement, exultation, and just a touch of apprehension. 

"Shall we, brother?" Legolas asked. 

"Aye, that bridge is wide enough for the two of us to cross side by side. At least," Gimli couldn’t help but quip, “so long as your head doesn’t get too big.”

“Ha,ha,” retorted Legolas dryly. 

Then they walked onto the dock together. Even as they started down the wooden boards towards the beach, with Erestor, Mithiriel and Theli, and Captain Gollaeron following behind, two small figures who had been standing at the base of the dock began to rush towards them. 

Legolas, with his sharp eyes, saw them first. He immediately began to laugh and smile. Then Gimli, too, saw who it was and started grinning and laughing in glad welcome. In tandem again, he and Legolas were running now, too.

"Gimli!" Shouted Frodo Baggins joyfully, leaping into the dwarf's strong arms with a cheerful abandon that Gimli had never even dared hope to see from him again. 

"Ah, Frodo lad!" Gimli roared in welcome, lifting the hobbit up in a firm embrace and then setting him gently back on the dock, only to then repeat the process with Samwise Gamgee Gardner, who had greeted Legolas first. 

Both hobbits were pink-cheeked with health. Though neither looked as young as they when the Fellowship had first met in Imladris, the added years sat lightly upon them. Samwise' blond hair was half-white, but less so than it had been when he had sailed west sixty years ago, just after his wife Rosie's death. The lines of grief which had lined Sam’s face during that sad time were gone, replaced by laugh lines written lightly on skin kissed copper bronze by the sun. 

Soon enough Samwise had moved behind Gimli to greet Mithiriel and Theli, and to introduce them to Frodo. Beyond the two hobbits, six other figures were approaching at a more decorous pace. There was Lord Elrond, who looked so much younger than Gimli remembered him that the dwarf thought for a moment that he must be seeing yet another son of Elrond, rather than the famous peredhel himself. Erestor, however, had no trouble recognizing his sworn brother, or the two ellith who walked on either side of him. 

The normally reserved elven lord ran forward with a glad cry of "Taminixe!" 

“Erestor!” the taller of Elrond’s two female companions shouted back, breaking into a run as well. They met halfway down the dock in a laughing, crying, talking embrace. Their joy was so palpable that it was almost hard to watch, as if all the world were partaking in a very private moment.

Gimli thought Taminxe quite beautiful, even though he realized that the depth of her current joy would have made anyone look beautiful. She was a tall, raven-haired elleth with coal-dark eyes. Her hair was braided back into one long braid which was decorated in much the same way as Gimli’s beard braids, with thick rings of gold. She wore a gauzy sleeveless dress in colors of carnelian and amber. Together with her garnet earrings and the gold arm bands set with rubies that she wore on her muscular arms, she looked like a flame brought to life. A friendly flame, as Mithiriel had described the Lady Taminixe based merely on the miniature around Erestor’s neck, but still not a woman for a faint-hearted man to have married.

“That elf is braver than I ever gave him credit for,” Gimli reflected aloud, as he noticed that Taminixe towered some four inches above her husband, even though Erestor was not a short elf himself, and also wore boots to her thin leather sandals. 

“Who, Erestor?” Theli asked in surprise, “He’s always been quite brave. I had to pull an arrow out of his stomach and sew him back together the first time we met. He not only stayed conscious the whole time, but held up a shield to keep both of us safe from the enemy arrows that were still raining down upon us. In fact, that was the first surgery I did while using . . .”

“Please, Green Sword,” Mithiriel interrupted, looking a little green herself, “Save those particular reminisces for when you speak with other healers. They’ll appreciate them more.”

Elrond and Celebrian stopped by Erestor and Taminixe, while the other three figures continued to walk towards Gimli and his friends. At first Gimli thought that the only one of them he recognized was Mithiriel’s ancestress Mithrellas, whom he was about to point out to her, but then he realized that he did know the sole male amongst the three.

His face was very different. The beard was gone, and the hair was a wavy russet instead of a flowing gray or white. The face was many times younger, but it was the same face.

“Gandalf!” Frodo called to the figure happily, “Look, it is Legolas and Gimli, and a daughter of Faramir’s!”

Gandalf, for it was he, chuckled.

To Gimli it was as if the years had just rolled back, and he was meeting his Prince Thorin’s old friend Gandalf for the first time as a young dwarfling with only down for a beard.

“Well met, old friend,” said Gimli, tears in his eyes as he stepped forward to shake the strangely young wizard’s hand, “It is so good to see you again.”

“And you, son of Gloin,” greeted Gandalf, “and of course our favorite archer,” he added, clasping arms with Legolas, “as well as one of my favorite healers,” he continued, with a wink towards Theli. “And of course it is a pleasure to meet my student Faramir’s middle daughter, who is also our Mithrellas’ long-daughter. And, of course, our mutual namesake.”

Mithiriel curtsied prettily. Gimli took a moment to admire how her eyes were exactly the same shape as those of Mithrellas, even as he wondered . . . here were all the other ring bearers who had sailed, save for old Bilbo Baggins. But where was his Lady Galadriel? The dark-haired, gray-eyed elleth clad all in misty gray who stood arm-in-arm with Gandalf was lovely beyond belief, but she was not Galadriel. Nor did she surpass Galadriel in Gimli’s eyes.

“This is my wife,” Gandalf said in introduction of his last companion, “The Vala Nienna, who is also one of my teachers. It was she who first convinced me to travel to Middle Earth.”

“Then we all owe you a debt of gratitude, Lady Nienna,” said Gimli, “For without you, Middle Earth would have been short one of its greatest cultivators of pipe weed. And also overrun by orcs.”

Nienna laughed lightly, but even in that short and soft a sound, Gimli could hear weeping and joy, sorrow and forgiveness and mercy and hope. The kind of hope that could overcome despair. Nienna, Gimli now recalled, was the powerful Vala of pity and mourning. Gimli had not known that a Vala could marry another who was not also one of the Valar. But if a Maia such as Melian could marry an elf such as Elu, and a half-maia such as Luthien could marry a human such as Beren, then why couldn’t a Vala marry a Maia like Gandalf? Or Olorin, as Gimli remembered that Gandalf was called in the West, although he did not seem to mind being addressed by the name the dwarves had given him long ago. 

“It is very nice to meet you all in person at last,” said the Vala Nienna with a kind smile, “Be welcome here in the West. Your coming brings joy to so many.”

“The Vala Nienna speaks only the truth,” said Lord Elrond, approaching them now with his wife Celebrian and sworn-brother Erestor on either side of him. “In fact, so many wished to be here to greet the five of you that we had to limit the attendance of this event quite stringently.” Then Elrond smiled at them. It was a light, happy expression that Gimli had never thought to see on such a serious being’s face.

Elrond next greeted Theli with a warm embrace. “Well-met, my dear student . . . and cousin!” the Peredhel said with a dancing smile, “and I see you that have brought our great-granddaughter as well.”

“Let me have a look at you, darling,” the silver-haired Celebrian said to Mithiriel, “I had never dared hope to have any of Arwen’s descendants journey here. You are most welcome, indeed.”

When it was time for Gimli to be introduced to Celebrian, he kissed her hand chivalrously.

“It is an honor, Lady Celebrian,” he said solemnly, “You are like the moon to your mother’s sunlight and starlight. My life is brighter for having met you.”

Celebrian smiled at him, highlighting her resemblance not just to her ethereal mother but also to her practical father whom Gimli had come to respect as well.

“My mother is waiting to greet you, Gimli son of Gloin,” said Celebrian, “But my husband Elrond, who is also her healer, felt it would be best for her not to stand in the sun waiting on the tides. She instead bides with Lady Calasse our host and Master Bilbo Baggins, on the cool hill overlooking the sea where a repast has been prepared for all of you.”

“No fish at that feast, right, Bri?” Erestor asked his foster-sister Celebrian with a trace of anxiety.

Celebrian laughed, “No, Erestor. No fish. I nearly had to lock several cooks in a shed to achieve that feat! But there are no fish or shell fish dishes on the menu.”

“So instead of locking them in a shed,” Lord Elrond jested with an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders, “My Celebrian had our Naneth Galadriel talk to them.”

“Mother is so very effective without even having to shout or threaten,” Celebrian agreed, with a charming, dimpled smile. 

With that, Celebrian began to effortlessly but effectively herd Gimli and his companions, her friend Taminixe, and the ringbearers and their wives all down the dock, over the beach, and up the shady path towards the gaily decorated pavilions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Note: My short stories about Celeborn and Galadriel’s courtship, “Celeborn’s Lady,” can be found on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/331096/chapters/534289
> 
> Please read all warnings.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The elven OC Queen Minaethiel, Thranduil's wife, who appears in this chapter and subsequent chapters of this story belongs to Emma (AfricanDaisy) and Kaylee, and has been borrowed with their kind permission for me to use in the Greenwood stories in my AU, which is distinct from their AU. Emma and Kaylee's Doriath stories can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/25743 and here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/656492. More of their Greenwood stories can be read in the files section here: https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/LOTR_DFIC/info
> 
>  
> 
> Quote:
> 
> “`And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves? ' said Galadriel turning to Gimli.
> 
> `None, Lady,' answered Gimli. `It is enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words.'
> 
> `Hear all ye Elves! ' she cried to those about her. `Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Glóin, you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.'
> 
> `There is nothing, Lady Galadriel,' said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. `Nothing, unless it might be – unless it is permitted to ask, nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire.'
> 
> The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. 'It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues ' she said; `yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift? '
> 
> `Treasure it, Lady,' he answered, `in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.'
> 
> Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli's hand. `These words shall go with the gift,' she said. `I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if hope should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Glóin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.” – J.R.R. Tolkien
> 
> “The sound of [Galadriel’s] footsteps was like a stream falling gently downhill over cool stones in the quiet of night.”   
> ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

On their way up the path, Legolas was ambushed by two ellyn and two ellith.

“Mother!” Legolas greeted the shorter elleth, who had blue eyes and blond hair just a shade darker than that of her youngest son. Gimli thought that the taller male elf with ebony hair and green eyes must be Legolas’ oldest blood brother, Thandrin, the former crown prince of the Greenwood. The two golden-haired and blue-eyed elves, who both closely resembled their royal father Thranduil, must be the twins Lithidhren, Legolas’ middle brother, and Eryntheliel, his only sister.

Gimli watched this reunion with tears in his own eyes, thinking of all the years he’d been lucky to have his mother and sister close by him, including many of his years in Aglarond. He stayed near Legolas’ side as the rest of their party moved on, waiting patiently for Legolas to greet his family. Then Gimli’s attention was drawn to a narrower path, one leading down to the beach from the direction of the forested hills far above. A pleasantly chill wind brought the smell of golden mallorn flowers in the sweet twilight of spring to Gimli’s nose. Being as it was clearly summer and there were no mallorn trees in sight, that was more than a little odd.

No one else seemed to have noticed, but Gimli’s attention was now fixed on the cool darkness of the forest path, his heart suddenly racing. Soon enough, his patience was richly rewarded, for down the green-shrouded path materialized his Lady Galadriel.

She was thinner and more fragile than she had been on Middle Earth, yet Gimli was still overwhelmed by her grace and beauty. Light-headed, and almost unable to speak, he observed with blessed relief that his luminous Lady appeared nowhere near as worried for the future as she had been when Gimli first met her during the Quest.

Instead of pure white, his Lady wore a shift of pale opalescent pink, with an overrobe of a silvery blue, its folds elegantly clasped beneath her breast by a large moonstone brooch. Her waves of golden and silver hair were mostly loose, save for several braids pulling her hair away from her face, in much the same style as Mithiriel. Galadriel wore no crown or other jewelry, not even a ring, but her smile was radiant.

“Welcome to the West, Gimli son of Gloin,” she said in her beautiful, echoing voice. Now that Gimli knew what the voice of a Vala sounded like, that was the only thing which he could compare Galadriel’s voice to. Her voice was less reverberating than that of Nienna, but still . . . it was a voice of great power.

Gimli knelt and kissed her pale, delicate hand, feeling awed and grateful beyond words to have the opportunity to see her again.

She gently raised him to his feet, and said, “We are honored to have you here amongst us, my Champion." In her eyes, Gimli could see her admiration and even awe that he had been bold enough to journey West. To be so esteemed by one such as her nearly moved him to tears.

“The honor is mine, my Lady,” Gimli assured her, his heart in his throat, “I could never thank you for all that you’ve done for me. But I am glad to have the chance to be here so that you may call on me whenever you have need.”

Galadriel just smiled again in reply, but her expression said so many things all at the once. Gimli had sailed in large part due to his friendship with Legolas, aye, but he would have sailed yet again just to bring that smile to this Lady’s face. More, Gimli had never seen her smile like that before, not for anyone save her close family members and Gandalf.

Gimli reached into his belt pouch, and pulled out a gift wrapped in white silk and tied with one of Mithiriel’s spare sea-change blue hair ribbons. He handed it to Galadriel with a simple, “I made this for you.”

Galadriel accepted the gift with surprised pleasure, carefully untying the ribbon and unwrapping the white silk package. It contained a delicate chain of mithril on which was strung a round, flat blue moonstone, flanked on either side by a diamond and a rose quartz, slightly smaller in size but matching in shape. It could be worn as a necklace, or as a circlet. Gimli had also made a matching ring of mithril and moonstone and matching earrings of cascading diamonds, rose quartzes, and moonstones.

“Beautiful work, my Champion,” Galadriel admired, looking down to meet Gimli’s eyes. He was unaccountably pleased that her expression actually resembled the one he’d seen on Mithiriel’s face, or Arwen’s, when such ladies had received gifts that they fancied particularly pretty and suiting.

Galadriel honored Gimli by immediately putting on his gifts. She was accompanied by two other elves whom Gimli hadn’t taken much notice of at first. The one to Galadriel’s right was an elleth, but one dressed in discreet armor, with a well-worn sword at her hip. It was her to whom Galadriel turned for assistance with donning the chain as a circlet, and to hold the silk package so that the Lady could put on her new ring and earrings.

“You look lovely,” Gimli complimented Galadriel when she had finished, “But then, you already did. I am proud beyond measure that the jewelry I made for you seems to suit.”

“You have an excellent eye for form and color, and metal-working skills worthy of celebration,” Galadriel complimented him, “In fact, I’m really looking forward to seeing what you can do with the furnaces in Valmar, Tirion, and Anderserme, and with some alloys that Master Ingoloren of Imladris has been working on developing via correspondence with some of the alchemists and engineers on my staff.”

As Galadriel spoke, quickly and excitedly, of those things which interested her, Gimli saw her for the first time as more than just a Lady of unearthly power, to be admired and cherished. For the first time, he began to see her also as a being with whom he had enough in common to one day imagine calling a friend, beyond the chivalrous relationship of champion to lady. Gimli thought, too of what Erestor had told him of the way that Galadriel was so determined to help others reach their full potential. Gimli admired that trait in his lady, it reminded him of the way that dwarven jewel-smiths cut, shaped, and polished gems and rock formations in such a way as to best reveal their full beauty, in all its myriad facets.

But Galadriel was also a being of unearthly power, even if she had willingly given up the lion’s share of it. Gimli imagined that she must still be able to read much of what he thought in his eyes, for she smiled at him again. But this time the smile had something of shyness in it, as well as hope and amusement. It reminded Gimli of nothing so much as the first moment he’d realized, in this Lady’s then-home of Lothlorien, that Legolas might someday become a friend worth doing anything for.

“There is time for nearly all things in the West,” said Galadriel, tactfully acknowledging Gimli’s thoughts, “though you – and Legolas – will be much in demand for some time before you can make your way to Valmar, where he can begin his apprenticeship with the scholars there. And where you, if you wish, may accept an offer of tutelage from my teacher the Vala Aule, your Mahal. But that,” she said with an empathetic smile, “is a topic for another time. At this moment, I am remiss in introducing you to my companions. And I have a gift to give you as well.”

Galadriel gestured gracefully to her right, where stood the warrior-like elleth with hair just a shade paler than the golden strands of Galadriel’s hair. “Gimli, this is Ilcetiel. She is one of my oldest friends.”

“I’m her bodyguard,” Ilcetiel interrupted Galadriel brusquely, “And whether or not I trust you to guard her on your own is yet to be decided.”

Galadriel gave Gimli the slightly embarrassed smile of someone who could do nothing but simply put up with the frustrating antics of a loved one. It was a smile that Gimli had seen, from time to time, on Faramir’s face in respect of Aragorn’s protectiveness, or his friend Dervorin’s antics. Or on Gimli’s own face, if he happened to look in a mirror when Legolas said something particularly daring.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Ilcetiel,” Gimli greeted her warmly, “I am sure that I can pass any test you choose to devise.”

The ellon standing to Galadriel’s left burst into cheerful laughter. Galadriel gave him a fond glance. She even looked as if she might join in his mirth, save that she was too respectful of the still on-edge Ilcetiel's dignity.

The ellon’s identity Gimli had no difficulty discerning. While he had raven hair like Elrohir and Elladan Elrondion and his silver-haired father’s strong jaw line, he also had his mother’s cornflower blue eyes.

“My younger son, Sadorchuron,” Galadriel introduced him.

The ellon reached out a hand to shake Gimli’s, saying as he did so, “Call me Sador, please. Nearly everyone does, as the other’s a bit of a mouthful.”

Sador, Gimli noted, had the situational awareness of a good peacekeeper. He didn’t have the battlefield-honed alertness of Ilcetiel, or of Legolas or Gimli himself for that matter, but he carried a sword like he knew how to use it. Gimli would feel safe trusting this elf at his back in a fracas, but not in a situation where they were outnumbered and the enemy arrows already flying in the air. He found himself glad that Galadriel had Ilcetiel guarding her back, even if the other elleth didn’t think much of Gimli yet. Gimli didn’t find that particularly insulting. Ilcetiel didn’t know him yet, after all. And Gimli would be more than a bit skeptical of a stranger asserting the right to defend Galadriel if he were Ilcetiel, too.

“‘Ceti,” Galadriel said sternly to Ilcetiel, who reluctantly handed her lady a flat wooden box about the size of Gimli’s hand.

“For you, Gimli,” said Galadriel, giving him the box.

He opened it to reveal a gleaming gold key, as bright and graceful as polished mallorn wood, the roundish top of which was inlaid with rainbows of precious and semiprecious gems in concentric circles. 

"Turn the inner circle so that the moonstone there aligns with the aquamarine in the outer circle,” Galadriel instructed, and then there was a nearly silent click as Gimli did so and the teeth of the key changed configurations, “And now your key will open my home in Doriath Gaeronwest.”

Gimli looked up at her in awed surprise, remembering now Celeborn’s words about guest rights.

Galadriel smiled fondly back at him. “Good. Now align the ruby and the sapphire gems, and that will open the door to my townhouse in Tirion. The diamond and the black opal – my town home in Valmar. The citrine and the tanzanite – my house in Anderserme. The rose quartz and the aventurine - my estate in Eryn Brongalen. The amethyst and the blue topaz – my apartments in New Imladris. The pearl and the emerald – my town home in Alqualonde. The opal and the garnet – my talan in Galador Annun. And the amber and chaorite – my house in Marillaeglir.”

Part of Gimli wanted to protest that this was too fine a gift, but the knowledge he had gained of Galadriel from the friendship he had developed with Celeborn stayed his tongue.

Instead he said only, “Thank you, my Lady. I am honored by your faith in me. I will always strive to be worthy of it.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” said Galadriel with another inspiring smile. Then she turned her attention to Legolas and his family.

“Welcome to the West, my young Cousin,” Galadriel greeted Legolas in carefully measured silvery tones. His Lady, Gimli observed, seemed aware of the power of her voice, and seemed to try to modulate that intensity in most of her interactions.

“Thank you for your kind welcome, Lady Galadriel,” Legolas replied, every inch the prince, “And for your many kindnesses to my dwarven brother and to me.”

“It has been my pleasure, always, cousin,” said Galadriel. She then nodded in the direction of Legolas’ immediate family, as if to remind him that he was remiss in performing the proper introductions of his mother and siblings to Gimli. Galadriel being Legolas’ distant cousin by both blood and marriage, she was undoubtedly already familiar with his family. 

“Gimli,” began Legolas, “This is my mother, Queen Minaethiel, and my sister, Princess Eryntheliel. And these are my brothers, Prince Thandrin the elder and Prince Lithidhren the younger.” To someone who didn’t know him well, Legolas would seem completely calm. But Gimli knew Legolas well enough to know that his elven brother was very anxious indeed that this introduction go well, and that Gimli and his family would grow to like one another.

Remembering Legolas’ courage in going to Erebor with Gimli and meeting his parents, who had once had good reason to dislike elves, Gimli bowed politely to Minaethiel and her children, and said, “Your grace. Your highness. You have a fine son and brother. It is my honor to call him my brother, and to join him in his travels.”

Minaethiel and Eryntheliel curtsied back to him, even though such a show of respect went far beyond what custom dictated. Raven-haired Thandrin offered his arm for Gimli to clasp in a warrior’s greeting, with a challenging look in his emerald eyes.

Keeping in mind the one hundred and twenty-two years he’d had with Legolas while Thandrin and his siblings had been stuck in the West with nothing to do but worry, Gimli clasped Thandrin’s offered arm with no posturing of his own. Golden-blond Lithidhren offered an arm clasp as well, but there was a dancing spark of amusement and even friendly welcome in his sapphire-blue eyes. It was strange to see an elf who so strongly physically resembled Thranduil with such an easy way about him. After he got to know Lithidhren better, Gimli would be even more honored by the way in which the normally reserved elf had welcomed Gimli into the inner circle of those he loved and trusted from this very first day. 

“We are most pleased to make your acquaintance, Gimli son of Gloin,” said Minaethiel in a sweet but not at all submissive voice. 

‘This one,’ Gimli thought to himself, ‘Would have been no mere arm-candy to Thranduil, but a true consort. No wonder he struggled then, without her.’ Over one hundred and twenty years Gimli had known Thranduil the elven King of the Wood, and in the one moment after meeting his wife, Gimli understood more of that elf and his sorrow than he had ever understood before. 

“We thank you, Gimli, for your service to Middle Earth,” Minaethiel continued, “and we are grateful for your strong friendship with our Legolas.”

“It has been my pleasure, your Grace. Always,” Gimli replied.

“Well, not always,” Legolas teased, “But almost always.”

With an amused glance for her youngest son, Minaethiel inclined her head in agreement, “Brothers argue. All siblings do, whether they are bound by blood or oaths.” Looking lovingly to her youngest son, Minaethiel gently corrected, “Do note, Las-nin. My title here is only princess. The title “Queen” is reserved only for the wives of the currently reigning Kings.”

“And for Queens regnant,” said Lithidhren, at the same time his twin sister said, “And for Queen Idril, when she ruled Gondolin Earrilye with King Tuor as her co-ruler, and Queen Nimloth, now that she rules Galador Annun with cousin Amroth.”

Minaethiel, with the long-suffering but proud air of a parent beset by clever children, merely nodded her acquiescence that it was so.

Then came one of those awkward pauses, such as happen when people who don’t know one another very well and people who haven’t seen loved ones in a long find themselves together. During the silence, Galadriel faltered. She caught herself against Ilcetiel’s side almost immediately, but it was noticeable and worrying to Gimli. And to Legolas, whose laurel-green eyes had followed Gimli’s gaze with only an instant’s pause.

“My Lady,” Gimli offered, “May I escort you to . . . wherever it is we’re to go?”

To the discontent of Ilcetiel, whose ice-eyed glare rested on Gimli for the rest of the walk, Galadriel accepted Gimli’s offer. With Gimli’s arm held up halfway to his shoulder, it was the perfect height for Galadriel to lean on as they walked up the rest of the hill towards the colorful pavilions with their array of appetizing offerings.

Legolas, with his mother on his arm, walked behind Gimli and Galadriel. Thandrin immediately took his sister’s arm. Lithidhren politely offered the tense Ilcetiel his arm, which Gimli had no doubt she accepted only reluctantly. Galadriel’s son Sador brought up the rear, whistling a cheerful little tune to himself. He seemed an easy-going sort to Gimli. The dwarf wondered to himself what Celeborn would think of a son with such relaxed manners!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The elven OCs Queen Minaethiel (Thranduil's wife), Queen Felith (Oropher's wife), Veassen, Baraves (Galadhon's wife), and Neldiel (Celepharn's wife) who appear in this chapter and possibly also subsequent chapters of this story belong to Emma (AfricanDaisy) and Kaylee, and have been borrowed with their kind permission for me to use in the Greenwood stories in my AU, which is distinct from their AU. Emma and Kaylee's Doriath stories can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/25743 and here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/656492. More of their Greenwood stories can be read in the files section here: https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/LOTR_DFIC/info
> 
> Quotes:
> 
> “But perhaps you could call [the Lady Galadriel] perilous because she's so strong in herself. You , you could dash yourself to pieces on her, like a ship on a rock, or drown yourself, like a Hobbit in a river, but neither rock nor river would be to blame.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers, Samwise speaking of Galadriel
> 
> “In women, courage is often mistaken for insanity.” – Iron Jawed Angels

There were three pavilions set up on the flat grassy hill-top overlooking the beach where the cerulean water met the pale purple-and-white sand. All of the pavilions boasted tables groaning with foods and dishes popular on Middle Earth. There were hobbit specialties, dwarven feast day foods, and of course popular elvish dishes, including some that Gimli knew for a fact were Legolas’ childhood favorites.

Long tables and comfortable outdoor chairs were set up under each pavilion, as were large earthenware tubs filled with ice in which rested pitchers of chilled fruit-infused water, lemonade, ale, cider, and some kind of wine mixed with bits of fruit. Galadriel led Gimli unerringly to the furthest away pavilion, where they found Bilbo Baggins holding court from an armchair set at the head of the first of several long tables.

Gimli made sure that Galadriel was comfortably settled while her son went to fetch her a cool drink. Then he turned his attention to old Bilbo, whom he’d met once as a young dwarf when he and his father Gloin passed through the Shire on their way to finish negotiating a settlement with the Men of the Blue Mountains.

“Uncle Bilbo,” said Frodo, “this is Gimli, the son of Gloin.”

The white-haired Bilbo peered at Gimli for a moment, and then nodded.

“Gloin’s son, eh?,” old Bilbo greeted him, “And Oin’s nephew? Aye, I met you when you were a young thing, with a beard still too short for proper braids. You were a polite young dwarf, not surprising given your family. Your father and uncle were excellent companions. They knew how to be serious when times called for it, but they knew how to celebrate, as well. How is old Gloin?”

Frodo, who had likely been briefed on Gloin’s death by someone or other, gave Gimli an apologetic look. Gandalf meanwhile silently warned Gimli over Bilbo’s head to keep his answer light and pleasant.

Gimli decided that it wouldn’t do any harm to give a vaguely misleading, if true, answer to that. “He was doing very well, last I saw him,” Gimli replied. That was true enough. Gloin had been at peace, at one with his ancestors under the mountain.

Galadriel excused herself to see to some matter involving fish and a cook, Ilcetiel following in her wake. Gimli remained the focus of Bilbo's attention, with Frodo and Sam on one side of him and Sador on the other. 

“And Balin?” old Bilbo inquired querulously, “How fares Balin?”

That was a harder question to give any kind of positive answer to, for Balin had died a violent death in Moria during an attack by orcs and a balrog. Gimli wasn’t sure what to say. It was a death that he’d never completely made his own peace with, in part because Balin had invited his kinsman Gloin’s son to join on the expedition to Moria. Gimli had turned down Balin’s offer because his father had needed him to help supervise the mines King Dain had given Gloin charge of, and because Lady Dis had pleaded with Gimli not to go. Gimli opened his mouth to answer, hoping that something would come to him, but nothing did. Legolas' foot under the table tapped gently against Gimli's boot, an expression of support and simultaneously an offer to take over the narrative if Gimli wanted him to. All Gimli had to do was tap back. 

It was Mithiriel, now approaching with Theli and a decently sized escort of other elves and one man, who came up with an answer for Bilbo’s question.

“Lord Balin has passed to the halls of his ancestors, Mr. Baggins, but he will be remembered forever in song and story,” Mithiriel explained to Bilbo helpfully.

Gimli sometimes found Mithiriel’s near-pathological urge to smooth over difficult points in conversations to be annoying, but this was not one of those times. He’d had no idea how to answer that question without saying something that might upset the venerable old hobbit! 

“Ah, well, he wasn’t the youngest dwarf when I met him,” Bilbo said philosophically, but with such a genuinely sad expression on his face that Gimli knew that Bilbo must mourn Balin deeply and sincerely, “We’ll raise a toast to old Balin tonight,” Bilbo continued, before peering suspiciously at Mithiriel, ”And who are you, young Lady?” he demanded. 

“This is Mithiriel, Uncle Bilbo,” Samwise reminded him patiently, “You remember, Frodo and I told you about the Steward of Gondor? Faramir? This is his daughter.”

“The one who’s married to an elf?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes, I’m that one,” Mithiriel agreed, with a bemused smile.

“Married to an elf,” Bilbo muttered to himself, “Such a strange world we live in.” 

“It truly is,” agreed the dark-haired Man who had followed in Mithiriel and Theli’s wake, his blue eyes laughing.

“Gimli, Mr. Baggins,” Mithiriel said, “Allow me to introduce you to my many-times grandfather, Prince Tuor of Gondolin Earrilye, and his wife, the Princess Idril. They currently serve as Gondolin Earrilye's ambassadors to Marillaeglir.”

Galadriel, rejoining them with Elrond at her side, turned her attention to Mithiriel. 

Gimli had seen Faramir’s middle daughter face emperors and kings without even the slightest hint of shyness. She had been bold as brass even when confronting evil blood mages and angry orcs. And yet now, before Galadriel, she was speechless, her gray-green eyes wide with wonder.

“Well-met, Long-daughter,” said Galadriel, “It is good to have the opportunity to greet you in person.”

“You are the one who first taught me . . .” Mithiriel caught herself before admitting to being a magic user, and made up something more normal, “how to speak mind-to-mind.”

“I am,” Galadriel agreed, her cornflower blue eyes twinkling with fond amusement, “You have a very ‘loud’ mental voice. You called out to me from even across the sea. That, and I knew your grandmother Finduilas,” Galadriel’s voice saddened and softened as she said that last, and even more as she added, “You are part of the future she sacrificed so much to make possible.”

“Not all of her sacrifices were well-considered ones,” noted Mithiriel carefully.

“Do not be too hasty to judge her,” advised Galadriel, “Being able to see the future is a great burden. One which has caused far more powerful beings than your grandmother to make much more cruel and foolhardy choices than committing one crime against a loved one.”

“And I, for one, would not have wanted to see the end of the Third Age without your father Faramir,” Gandalf added.

“And we are deeply grateful, and joyful, to have you here with us, granddaughter,” said Elrond, concluding the discussion of that topic.

More beautiful, powerful elves arrived, and more introductions were made. Gimli found his head whirling long before the end of them. In addition to Tuor and Idril, there was their tall, blond, muscular son, Earendil, and his wife, gray-eyed and raven-haired Elwing, who were Lord Elrond’s parents, as well as Theli’s uncle and aunt.

There was the famous second age elven King, Ereinion Gil-galad, who was the Lady Galadriel’s nephew and Elrond’s cousin, as well as being Elrond’s foster-brother and the current king of the Tol Eressean kingdom of Anderserme. The auburn haired elleth beside Ereinion was his sweet wife, Queen Lelien. Ereinion’s flame-haired bodyguard Nallos Canyavasion had known Theli when he was only an elfling and again during the War of the Last Alliance, at the end of which both Ereinion and Nallos had lost their lives. 

“I am so glad to see you again, Nallos!” Theli greeted.

“And I you, little squirrel! However, I must confess myself near overcome with amazement that you managed to get this far without dying!” said Nallos, but he smiled as he said it, and held Theli tightly against him.

Then Gimli lost track of them for a time after Theli introduced Nallos to Mithiriel. The three of them began walking and speaking of Nallos’ family, including his beautiful daughter Tauriel, the Chief Groom at Imladris.

No sooner had Theli and Mithiriel disappeared with one familiar stranger than Erestor appeared with three more. 

In addition to his wife Taminixe, Erestor introduced them to his parents, his charming father Arandil and dainty white-blond Elain his mother. Erestor also introduced them to the grandmother he’d met just an hour before, the graceful dark-eyed Laureamoriel, herself the wife of Glorfindel the Balrog-Slayer.

“You have a wonderful grandson, Lady Laureamoriel,” Gimli complimented her, “Although your husband Lord the Captain Glorfindel has at times a low and lamentable sense of humor!”

Laureamoriel laughed and agreed. Then she sat down on the other side of Galadriel, whom she had served during her first life and again since Galadriel’s return to the West.

“Do go and enjoy your grandson, Laurea,” Galadriel gently but firmly urged her, and Laureamoriel obeyed, going off to follow Erestor. Laureamoriel returned to them a half hour or so later, claiming that Erestor and Taminixe had retired to their chamber in Calasse’s house for a rest.

The sparkle of mischief in Legolas’ laurel green eyes when he heard that had said all too clearly that Legolas wished to make it clear to Gimli just what was meant by “a rest.” As if Gimli didn’t know perfectly well! But fortunately, surrounded by so many famous and just-met family members, Legolas refrained.

Indeed, all of Gimli’s companions were on their best behavior. Mithiriel shone, figuratively and quite literally in her shimmering sea-change blue dress. Theli managed to act the great lord while retaining much of his own native charm. Gimli wondered if any of them were as tired of these endless new introductions as he was!

Thankfully, one or another of the elves hired from the village by Lady Calasse to help with this party kept bringing Gimli plates of food. And what food! Moist and succulent roasted boar with onions and carrots, sweet potato pudding, rich mushroom and venison stew, warm apple pie, and a number of the spicy egg and vegetarian dishes he’d become quite fond of during visits to Legolas in Ithilien-en-Edhil.

Most of the dwarven dishes, such as the roasted boar and the sweet potato pudding, were very tasty but not quite as Gimli remembered them from Erebor and Aglarond. Although, after months of sea fare, they were very good indeed. But the mushroom stew, at least, was exactly as he remembered it. Gimli applied himself to his plates with gusto in between all of the new introductions and pleasant but slightly awkward nice-to-meet-you-elf-who-is-an-intimate-stranger-of-my-friend conversations that kept occurring. 

Gimli would have felt alone, surrounded by all of these elven reunions, save that he was surrounded at all times by some combination of Legolas, Frodo, Sam, Theli, Mithiriel, and Galadriel, or in the absence of the lady herself, someone from her retinue. So even when Legolas was completely swept up in the deluge of newly-met family members, Gimli was not left to his own devices. And Legolas did have a great deal of family here in the West!

In addition to Legolas’ mother and siblings, Gimli met Legolas’ paternal grandfather Oropher, who looked much like his grandson Thandrin, and Oropher’s wife Felith, who resembled Thranduil, Eryntheliel, and Lithidhren in coloring. Oropher and Felith were the currently reigning King and Queen of Eryn Brongalen, and so they were trailed by bodyguards. Gimli didn’t catch the guards’ names, but both were remembered fondly by Legolas from his elflinghood.

“Gimli, this is Veassen Taldurion,” Legolas introduced the shorter, chestnut-haired Eryn Brongalen guard, “He is serving as my Daerada Oropher’s bodyguard. He is Cellillien’s father.”

Gimli knew Cellillien, or Celli, as she was often called, quite well. She often served as Legolas’ bodyguard in Ithilien-en-Edhil and Gondor, when he or his foster-brother Thalion deemed that Legolas needed one. 

“You have a lovely and capable daughter, Sir Veassen,” Gimli complimented the elven officer, whom he assumed would likely have been knighted at some point, “She has to be, to put up with this one’s antics!” he added, giving Legolas a friendly slap on the back.

“I am not that bad,” Legolas complained, only a little aggrieved, “And in any case, Ada is far worse!”

“Of that, I am sure!,” Veassen agreed emphatically, “But I cannot imagine my little daughter, a soldier!”

“Everything changed after you and mother and my siblings died,” said Legolas softly, “Celli changed too. She wanted to do something to honor you, and she trained hard. With Baeraeriel, mostly, at first, but then she went through the army training.”

“I cannot imagine Thranduil doing anything but trying to protect his gwador’s daughter,” said Oropher, Thranduil’s father. “An elf cannot guard a King if that King insists on keeping the elf safe.”

“He can, if by keeping her safe he stays away from places where a King oughtn’t go,” Gimli pointed out levelly, “That’s how Celli managed Legolas, mostly. Although she was a pretty blade herself when we truly faced trouble.”

“Ada left her in the North to guard my aunt and cousins when Greenwood’s army went to Dol Guldur,” Legolas explained, “but she was often one of his guards, on any other given day. She said that the danger with Ada was not so much keeping him safe once he’d found danger, but keeping him from searching it out in the first place.”

The older elves appeared disinclined to agree. Legolas’ siblings exchanged looks, and then Eryntheliel announced, “What I am amazed by, Legolas-nin, is that you, Cellilien and Rochendil actually implemented my messenger bird system. I was so far away from getting the owls to agree to cooperate . . .”

“Your death changed that, too,” said Legolas compassionately, “The whole forest mourned you. They did it for you,” he looked down, and then said quietly, only loudly enough for Eryntheliel, Lithidhren, Thandrin, and Gimli to hear, “I did my best to be a good heir to Ada, for all of us. At least until I couldn’t anymore.”

Gimli rolled his eyes and kicked Legolas, at the same time that Thandrin smacked Legolas’ thigh, Lithidhren flicked his ear, and Eryntheliel scolded him.

“The sea longing isn’t a weakness, Legolas!” she said firmly.

“Eryntheliel!” A very elegant silver-blond elleth scolded, “Keep your voice down. You may voluntarily spend most of your days with birds and deer, and why your mother allows that I’ll never know, but you should at least behave with propriety at formal events!”

“This is a picnic, Naneth Baraves,” Galadriel interjected calmly, “Not a formal event. But perhaps you would be willing to give Lady Calasse your opinion of what could be done better at the next reception for returning war heroes.”

The elegant elleth, whom Gimli now recalled had been introduced to him as Celeborn’s mother, raised one regal eyebrow and said to Galadriel coolly, “Daughter, please tell me that you are not planning to greet any more of our returning kin in this goat field!”

Gimli narrowed his eyes at the refined beauty, but before he had a chance to decide what he could say that would be sufficiently polite to be spoken to a lady but at the same time firm enough to make this lady regret berating his Lady Galadriel, Legolas’ mother spoke up.

“I think that the Lady Calasse’s seaside estate makes for a charmingly quaint venue, Aunt Baraves,” Minaethiel politely disagreed, “But perhaps with your aid and suggestions, Calasse could decorate and accouter her property even more grandly?”

Galadriel’s mother-by-law sighed, “Well, that at least should not be hard. Very well.”

Once she was well out of hearing distance, a charming elleth nearly as tiny as Mithiriel broke into delighted laughter. Her beautiful blue-green eyes sparkling, she told Minaethiel and Galadriel, “That was a terrible thing to do to poor Calasse!”

Minathiel raised one palm in the elegant elven version of a shrug, and put her arm around the nearer arm of the rather taken aback Legolas. 

Galadriel serenely explained, “Calasse will not mind, Neldiel. She is older than Naneth Baraves, and quite skilled at listening only to what she wants to hear.” Turning her attention to Eryntheliel, Galadriel smiled, and encouraged the younger elleth, “Chin up, Eryntheliel. Life in this family requires courage.”

“I prefer time spent with my birds and deer to being berated by the elder generations, to be honest,” replied Legolas’ sister, before hastily amending, “Present company excepted, of course, Cousin Galadriel, Daernana Neldiel, and Nana. Nor are Daernaneth Felith or cousin Nimloth difficult either, thank the Valar.”

“And we were all in agreement, including Felith and Nimloth,” said Legolas’ animated great-grandmother Princess Neldiel to Gimli and Legolas, “That there would not be a repeat of the grand and overwhelming cavalcade which greeted Galadriel, Elrond and poor Frodo and Bilbo in Avallone upon their arrival after the end of your Ring War.”

“I was there, too,” Gandalf pointed out, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Yes, but you almost seemed to be enjoying yourself, Olorin,” Neldiel disputed, “While everyone else looked like deer brought to bay!” With a mischievous toss of ebony curls and a gesture towards Galadriel, Neldiel elaborated, “Even you, my cousin the ice-maiden!”

“I had not expected all of the spectacle, that much is true,” Galadriel conceded, “And we were all very tired.”

“I’m just as glad to have been spared all of that,” Legolas admitted, “Nor do I think that Adar would particularly appreciate it, either.”

“Thranduil may just have to grin and bear it,” Galadriel warned, “Keeping the welcoming party for the two of you and your companions small and informal we were able to more-or-less manage, but Thranduil – and most likely my husband Celeborn – will be sailing with the vast majority of the remaining elves of Middle Earth. They’ll likely need a harbor as large as Avallone’s to accommodate that fleet.”

“I’m sure that we can arrange something better than the Disaster at Avallone,” Neldiel disagreed. 

“Perhaps,” allowed Galadriel, faintly amused. The expression on her face said, ‘I dare you to prove me wrong’ to Neldiel, and Gimli got the impression that his Lady hoped that Legolas’ petite great-grandmother would do just that!

Gimli noted to himself that while Neldiel appeared to have a friendly if somewhat one-sided rivalry of sorts with Galadriel, Legolas’ mother and sister seemed quite comfortable with Gimli’s lady.

Galadriel met Gimli’s eyes, and explained, “Minaethiel once did me the honor of serving as one of my ladies-in-waiting. She and Eryntheliel are frequent visitors to my home in the Lorien Gardens and to my apartments in New Imladris.”

"And we are all the older twin sisters of male twin brothers," Erytheliel added, with a charmingly dimpled smile.

“And my poor twin has three brothers on this side of the sea to manage now,” Lithidhren teased his sister, “However will you manage, Eryn-nin?”

“Legolas will be busy enough getting acclimated to Eryn Brongalen for a time, I’m sure,” said Thandrin, Legolas’ oldest brother. “Eryntheliel will not need to do much in the way of arranging amusements – more arranging rest for Legolas in between them!”

“Actually,” Lord Elrond put in delicately, “Legolas has been selected for an apprenticeship with loremaster Failon in Valmar.”

A startled silence reigned for a moment amongst all of Legolas’ kin save for Lithidhren.

“You always were a bright elfling, Legolas,” Lithidhren complimented his only younger brother, “It makes sense that someone would take note of it.”

“Those apprenticeships are highly competitive, Legolas-nin,” Minaethiel explained to her son, and to Gimli, who hadn’t been aware of that.

“You can stay with me in Valmar if you wish, Legolas,” Lithdhren offered, belatedly adding, “And you as well, Gimli. I have plenty of space in the town house I lease from cousin Galadriel in the city.” 

During a break from the introductions and friendly if sometimes stilted conversations, Gimli got up to fill a plate with fourth and fifth helpings of his own choosing. Rather to his surprise, it was Galadriel’s son Sador who was serving the mushroom and venison stew.

“The ellon on duty for this station was too intent on flirting with the pretty brunette over by the cold drinks,” Sador explained with a grin, “So I sent him over there to help her, before he dropped steaming hot mushroom and venison stew on someone important.”

Gimli didn’t know quite what to make of that. It wasn’t what he’d expected of a royal lord. He liked Sador all the better for it, though.

“Well, if you’re serving the stew, friend Sador, I’ll have another helping,” Gimli said, holding out his bowl.

“I’m pleased to hear that you like it,” Sador replied with another smile, “Do tell my Naneth Galadriel. She prepared it with her own hands. And she had to brave the clucking of various female elders and horrified cooks in order to do so! Apparently,” Sador added with a laugh and a wink, “neither princesses nor great ladies of any sort are supposed to go walking through the forest to collect mushrooms, greens, and herbs, much less field-dress venison and work elbow-to-elbow with cooks in a crowded kitchen.”

“I think that your mother could brave anything, Sador,” Gimli said quietly, deeply honored that Galadriel had gone to the trouble of making this dish for him. 

“She probably already has,” Sador agreed, his laughing eyes serious for once. “She is a lot to live up to, as a mother. I’d heard stories about her courage and strength all my life. To meet her, when she was so wearied, and to realize that she had sacrificed so much of herself so that others might be safe, well . . . the elleth more than lived up to the legend. Seeing her as she was after she gave up the ring nenya, and even still seeing her now- it has taught me that strength is not only a physical thing. Her body may yet be weak, but her spirit - it is mithril.”

The great Lady’s charming son smiled ruefully, “It is good that my foster-father, who is her brother Finrod, raised me and my brother Trevadir to be strong in ourselves. Otherwise, my ego would have been dashed to bits upon meeting my own mother!” 

Gimli chuckled, “It's clear that someone raised you well, Sador. But I think that Finrod and his wife must have had good ore to work with, from the very start.” 

“I like to think so,” Sador said, proudly but not vainly, then added, “But I would not be who I am, without my Uncle Finrod and Aunt Amarie. It is odd for a grown son to meet a famous mother, particularly when their lack of a previous relationship was in no way the mother's fault. But we have done well, I think, my mother and my brother and I, in forging a new relationship between us that is to the betterment of all. Who I will become in the future I cannot entirely say, but that I am a better person for having come to know my mother Galadriel, I have no doubt.” 

“Meeting your mother was one of the best things to ever happen to me,” said Gimli, “and I can tell that she treasures you.”

“Thank you. She’s exhausting to keep up with, though,” Sador confessed, “Even though she hardly ever ventures out from Lorien or New Imladris, there are always messengers coming and going, with notes about this new smithing technique or this new method for extracting seeds from some kind of fruit or other. And Marillaeglir . . . she was very involved in helping cousin Rissaurel bring that about. And she’s been busy mentoring Rissaurel’s little niece Raniel, as well as a good dozen or so other ellith.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Gimli proudly, “and I’m happy to help with whatever she needs. Now, tell me, Lord Sador, who was it who procured the mushrooms, the venison, the boar, and all the other provisions, and recompensed the Lady Calasse’s staff for this feast?”

Legolas and Mithiriel might have accept large welcoming parties and feasts as the natural consequence of their arriving somewhere new, but Gimli’s humbler upbringing in the Blue Mountains before their return to Erebor had taught him that such things did not just appear! He thought it likely that Theli was wondering the same thing, but Mithiriel’s husband appeared to be too overwhelmed at being petted and praised by his Aunt Elwing and other family members to have much to say about it yet. But like Gimli, he was sure that Theli would at least want to know who to thank, besides, of course, his Lady Galadriel and their host Lady Calasse.

“Well, there’s a fund,” Sador began, “for hosting new arrivals to the West. But I don’t know as it was drawn down on for your lot. And Naneth of course . . . ”

“Sador,” scolded a new arrival, a tall elleth with blond hair coiled on top of her head like a crown and calloused hands like a sailor, “What in the Valar’s name are you doing? I hired a staff to serve the food. You’re supposed to be making sure that your mother doesn’t overdo. And you should know better than to discuss matters of commerce at a party!”

That, in Gimli’s opinion, was a silly rule, but it did sound like something that elves would come up with.

“Your pardon, Aunt Calasse, but both Ilcetiel and my brother Elrond are keeping an eagle-eye on my mother. And you see . ..” Sador began.

“I don’t even want to know, nephew,” said Calasse, “Besides, what will Lord Gimli think of us?”

“I’m honored by your welcome, Lady Calasse,” said Gimli, “And I think that Sador’s offer to tend the stew so that your young staff member could flirt with his sweetheart was a kind one.”

“Oh, is that why . . . ” said Calasse, looking over to the smiling young couple serving drinks with a wistful expression. Gimli remembered that Calasse's own love Cirdan the Mariner was over the sea, and had been for most of the ages of Arda. And would be, until the very last ship sailed West.

“Well, I suppose I will just go find someone else to serve the stew,” said Calasse, with the tone of a hostess whose party had somehow gotten away from her. Turning her attention back to Gimli, Calasse assured him, “Please do not worry about repaying any honor you are shown here in the West, Lord Gimli. If not for you and the Fellowship and all of the brave beings who fought the Deceiver again and again, those whom we all love would have perished. There is no honor too great for us to show you. There never could be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Note: The OC Nallos appears in various of the chapters of "Tales of the Lost Twins," available on AO3 at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/535929/chapters/951528. 
> 
> And also in "King or Carnival Elf," available at AO3 at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/235344/chapters/360662. 
> 
> Please read all warnings before reading the stories! Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The elven OC Queen Minaethiel (Thranduil's wife) who appears in this chapter and possibly also subsequent chapters of this story belong to Emma (AfricanDaisy) and Kaylee, and have been borrowed with their kind permission for me to use in the Greenwood stories in my AU, which is distinct from their AU. Emma and Kaylee's Doriath stories can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/25743 and here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/656492. More of their Greenwood stories can be read in the files section here: https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/LOTR_DFIC/info
> 
> Quotes: 
> 
> “[Elrond]was as noble and as fair in face as an elf lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves and as kind as summer.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien
> 
> “In all the days of the Third Age, after the fall of Gil-galad, Master Elrond abode in Imladris, and he gathered there many Elves, and other folk of wisdom and power from among all the kindreds of Middle-earth, and he preserved through many lives of Men the memory of all that had been fair; and the house of Elrond was a refuge for the weary and the oppressed . . .” ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion
> 
> “A sister they had, Galadriel, most beautiful of all the house of Finwë; her hair was lit with gold as though it had caught in a mesh the radiance of Laurelin.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion
> 
> Excerpt from Previous Chapter:
> 
> “Please do not worry about repaying any honor you are shown here in the West, Lord Gimli. If not for you and the Fellowship and all of the brave beings who fought the Deceiver again and again, those whom we all love would have perished. There is no honor too great for us to show you, and can never be.”

With that, Calasse departed, and left Gimli with his plate and Sador serving the stew.

“So,” asked Gimli with a smile and a wink, “Who do I have to thank for paying for the party?”

“Naneth Galadriel, primarily,” Sador answered, after first making sure that Calasse was out of hearing range, “Although Erestor’s mother contributed a fair amount. She owns a profitable line of apothecary products. And Legolas’ mother Minaethiel helped quite a bit. She’s got a very prosperous toy-making business.”

“Toys?” said Gimli incredulously.

Sador shrugged, “Apparently Princess Minaethiel was bored during the War of the Last Alliance, and took up making dolls and puppets for elflings whose fathers were away fighting in the War. There weren’t really that many toy shops in Aman, as elves are only elflings for a comparatively small amount of time. Before Minaethiel was reborn, Naneth Galadriel sent a letter to her business factor, who by that time was Ilcetiel, as she had been reborn quite soon after the War of Wrath. Naneth’s letter directed that Princess Minaethiel should be offered a loan to begin a business making toys here. It has become very popular, which has allowed cousin Minaethiel a great deal of independence. Mother enjoys helping to make it possible for ellith to be independent. It’s one of the little hobbies she uses to fill her days.” Sador smiled again, “You know, some ellith embroider. My mother changes the world.”

“Some women change the world by embroidering,” Gimli pointed out, just to be fair, although he was more than pleased by Sador’s admiration of his mother, and by learning so much more about Galadriel from this son she had quite evidently come to cherish.

“Yes, and Mother gives them loans, as well,” said Sador, his eyes still laughing.

“And did your mother hunt the boars, then too?” Gimli asked, rather hoping that the answer to that question would be no. He didn’t think that Lady Galadriel looked well enough to be out hunting geese, let alone boar. Boar-hunting was remarkably dangerous, even for experienced warriors.

“Oh, no,” said Sador, “Although I’m told that she killed polar bears when they crossed the grinding ice. My foster-father Finrod, my mother’s oldest brother, complained about that often enough. Apparently she got in over her head at least once with a bear and he and cousin Turgon had to rescue her. Naneth says that they exaggerate, but not by as much as she’d like.”

“Who did hunt the boar?” Gimli asked curiously, making a mental note to ask someone about the polar bear story later.

“Most of us who arrived in time,” Sador answered, “Myself, of course, and cousin Ereinion and cousin Arandil. My brother-by-law Elrond. Lady Taminixe, who is impressive to watch and hunts with a boar spear of her own smithing. Prince Celepharn and his wife Neldiel, who only got to go because she promised to stay out of the way of the boar. Legolas’ oldest brother Thandrin, and his middle brother Lithidhren, but only because Thandrin made him, and that didn’t end well.”

That statement Gimli found troubling, “Legolas told me that his brother Lithidhren is more a scholar than a hunter or soldier.”

“Oh, he is,” Sador agreed, “But Thandrin insists that Lithidhren improve his skills in such areas, so Lithidhren tries. But Lithidhren was distracted with re-writing a passage of a history book in his head, and didn’t see the boar that had just been baited charging right for him. Fortunately, his great-grandfather Celepharn got him out of the way in time, and my brother-by-law Elrond distracted the boar.”

“My son did what?” asked an outraged baritone voice.

“Oh, Prince Earendil!” Sador greeted brightly, “I didn’t see you there! 

Gimli was all but sure that Sador had. He’d been looking in the direction Earendil had approached from, after all.

“What did Elrond do, Sador?” Golden-haired Prince Earendil asked impatiently.

“He threw his only spear at the boar so that it would charge him instead of Lithidhren,” Sador reported cheerfully, “then he narrowly dodged aside, causing the boar to get its tusks stuck inside a large knot on a nearby tree by charging into where Elrond had just been. It was really impressive to watch, although cousin Ereinion spoke to him sharply about it afterward. Apparently, Elrond had gotten impaled on a boar tusk by trying a similar trick early in the Second Age. He told Ereinion that he’d timed it right, this time. As of course he had.”

Earendil stalked off in the direction where Gimli had last seen Elrond, muttering something under his breath that sounded rather dire for Elrond. 

“Did you just get your brother-by-law Elrond into trouble on purpose?” Gimli asked Sador.

“Oh, yes,” Sador freely admitted, “Naneth and my sister both dote on him. I like him myself, and I want him to live. He’s become somewhat careless now that he’s fully recovered from the toll bearing that ring took on his health. Some reborn elves do, and he’s so serious about most things that no one much has noticed. Cousin Earendil won’t have much trouble remedying that, I think.”

“You do know that Lord Elrond fought in nearly every great war during the First through Third Ages, don’t you, Sador?” Gimli asked incredulously.

“Yes, and I’m grateful to him for that. All the more reason not to let him die on a stupid boar hunt,” countered Sador.

And Gimli had to agree with that, so far as it went. But he thought that there might be something else going on . . .

“Oh, very well, I admit it,” Sador said after a moment of Gimli giving him a dubious look, “I am also a little jealous of my brother-by-law Elrond. And that is part of why I like to get him into trouble. I also like Elrond’s father, my cousin Earendil, very much. You have to understand, Lord Gimli, Elrond isn’t just my brother-by-law, as hard as that alone would be in some ways for me, an officer in Anderserme’s peacekeeping force, to have as my new sister’s husband a veteran of so many wars. Do not get me wrong, I am glad that there has never been a war in the West. But Elrond’s experience makes me look green in my mother’s and sister’s eyes, and there is nothing I can do about that.”

“And not only that,” Sador continued, aggrieved but not in an angry way, “But noble and kind Elrond is also my mother Galadriel’s first son, in every way that truly matters. Yes, it’s true that Ereinion was the first young ellon mother came to care for, but their relationship is consistent with their blood ties of aunt and nephew. But Elrond . . . Naneth has known him and loved him since the First Age. No one else may ever know her as well as he does, for he is her friend and her comrade-in-arms as well as her heart-son and son-by-law. As peredhel and elleth, they were both the odd-one-out on the councils of the great in the First and Second Ages. They made their own paths, where no paths had ever existed before for one such as them. And they both bore rings of power. And as my mother will tell you, to bear a ring of power is to be forever alone. But she wasn’t, you see, and it was because of Elrond, as well as Ereinion, Cirdan, Mithrandir and Frodo. But it was because of Elrond alone, for the longest time.”

“And then there is cousin Earendil,” Sador further explained, “He had been waiting to reunite with Elrond and be a father to him for over two ages. And yet, Elrond had no interest whatsoever in even having a father! He was very polite to Earendil, but it was very tedious to watch as Elrond constantly forgot to call Earendil “Atar” or “Adar” and instead addressed his father as “Lord Earendil.” And it was hurtful, to cousin Earendil.”

Gimli, catching the drift of where this was going, made a guess, “And cousin Earendil was almost like an uncle to you growing up, eh, Sador?”

“Yes, he was,” the dark-haired ellon admitted, “And so was Lord Glorfindel, who left us to go and take care of Elrond. And I am told that my own father Celeborn was like another father to Elrond. So, cousin Earendil who had always been kind to me and very involved in my life and that of my older brother Trevadir, was busy paying attention to his own recently arrived son Elrond, who was also a war hero and my mother’s heart-son. And who wanted nothing to do with poor cousin Earendil his father. I had very good reasons to be jealous of Elrond. Mother realized it, and was very patient with me about it. As was Elrond, which is just another reason to be jealous of him. He’s too perfect. So, I worked out my jealousy issues in part by helping cousin Earendil to see that Elrond is still in need of a father, and then by helping him to convince Elrond of that. And it’s still a work in progress, Lord Gimli.”

“Just Gimli,” Gimli corrected. He might not approve of Lady Galadriel’s younger son getting his noble brother-by-law into trouble, but he did like Sador enough not to want to be “Lorded” by him constantly. Another thought occurred to Gimli . . .

“Why are you sharing all of this with me, Sador?”

“You’re mother’s champion,” Sador answered simply, “That means you are a part of our family. Welcome to mayhem. It’s chaos, and there’s always a lot to be done, but it’s never boring.” 

Gimli laughed aloud at that, “Well, I do hate for life to be boring. As our Faramir, Mithiriel’s father, used to say, I can’t help but get involved.”

“That will put you in good company with the rest of our family,” Sador assured him, with yet another cheerful smile. Much like his mother, Sador’s smile could light up a room.

A hundred and twenty years of practice alerted Gimli to Legolas’ presence before the light-haired elven prince had even come into their sight.

“Valar, you’re quiet when you want to be, Prince Legolas,” Sador complimented him.

Gimli laughed as Legolas blinked in confusion at the compliment.

“He wasn’t even trying, Sador my friend,” Gimli explained, “When he tries to be quiet, my brother Legolas could walk right up to a rabbit and tap it on the ears before it even knew he was there.”

“Well, that could be a useful skill,” Sador admired, “perhaps I could persuade you to give me tracking lessons, Prince Legolas? Although mostly I hunt elven prey in cities, and only elves who have committed crimes at that.”

“Well, I’m not actually at my best in cities,” Legolas admitted, which Gimli knew to be true, “Perhaps we can exchange lessons.”

“I would be honored,” Sador said, then tilted his head slightly to look at something going on behind Legolas.

The something was a conversation between Earendil and Elrond, seemingly both returning to the pavilion from a walk in the forest. Elrond, Gimli noticed with interest, was slightly red in the face. He did not seem upset with his tall golden-haired father, however. Whatever Earendil was saying, it had Elrond breaking into laughter. Then Earendil pressed a fatherly kiss to Elrond’s brow, before parting ways with his son to rejoin his wife Elwing at her call.

Elrond's gaze turned in their direction, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Sador. Elrond walked over to them, still blushing slightly.

“Thank you for that, Sador,” Elrond said to his brother-by-law, seemingly torn between outrage and laughter.

“For what?” asked Legolas, even as Sador laughed.

“You’re welcome, Elrond-my-brother,” Sador replied gaily, “And you’re also welcome for telling my older brother Trevadir and my commanding officer about the shoulder I sprained helping you build New Imladris.”

“I just didn’t want you to be further injured in exchange for helping me!” Elrond protested.

“You see?” Sador complained to Gimli, “Positively too disgustingly perfect. Who wouldn’t be jealous?”

“What?” asked Legolas again.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Gimli promised Legolas.

Just then Calasse found someone to substitute in for Sador with the mushroom stew, and Gimli accompanied him and Legolas and Elrond back to the tables.

They arrived to find Galadriel and Gandalf telling a story about the Quest for Erebor, which captured Gimli’s interest immediately. Still, Gimli noted with some amusement that Lord Elrond was indeed keeping an eye on Galadriel, and that Lord Earendil and Lady Elwing were keeping an eye on their son Elrond.

“My brother Saruman had decreed that your father and his companions would not be allowed to continue on their quest, Gimli,” Gandalf explained, his strangely youthful countenance filled with sorrow at the thought of his brother Maia who had fallen to evil.

“But, of course, Lord Gloin and the others had already left,” Elrond noted, his gray eyes glimmering with humor, “Which Mithrandir knew, but had not bothered to tell Saruman.”

“Lady Galadriel knew as well,” Gandalf interjected, his expression now amused instead of sorrowful, “But our gold-and-silver lady did not tell, either.”

“Saruman seemed so pleased with himself, for having made the decision,” Galadriel said of Saruman, her own expression torn between grief and mirth, “Who was I to tell him that his decrees meant nothing?”

“I wish I’d listened to you and Thranduil earlier, about his allegiances,” Gandalf confessed to Galadriel.

“I wish that I’d been able to tell you something more conclusive than that it was an elleth’s intuition,” Galadriel replied, “And I am also glad that you brought the Halfling.” Galadriel turned to Bilbo Baggins with a smile, “And that you were able to help King Thorin and Lord Gloin and their companions, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo smiled proudly, and accepted a peeled grape from the pretty little elleth in healer’s robes who was always at his side.

“Now, just who did you foresee having foul intent this time, dear Sister?” Inquired yet another cheerful, golden baritone. Its owner was an incredibly tall blond ellon with an irrepressible air. He was accompanied by yet another well-dressed blond ellon, and the two of them by a dozen elven warriors in armor.

Lady Galaldriel stood to greet the first tall blond ellon, whom Gimli noticed looked in some ways remarkably like her in appearance. 

The tall ellon didn’t wait for her to finish rising before swinging her up into his arms for an embrace. When he finally put her down, she smiled at him, the same way she had smiled at Gimli when he arrived.

Then she turned her attention to Gimli, one arm still around the ellon who had just embraced her.

“Gimli, Legolas, this is my brother, Finrod Felagund, Prince of the Noldorin elves of Aman, and former King of Nargothorond on Middle Earth and Anderserme in Tol Eressea. He and his wife Amarie guarded my heart and Celeborn’s here in the West, by taking our sons Trevadir and Sador into their household and their hearts as their own sons, and this” Lady Galadriel said, turning to the other blond ellon, “Is our cousin Ingwion, crown prince of the Vanyarin elves of Aman.”

Finrod Felagund extended his arms, the one to Legolas and the other to Gimli, clasping each of their forearms in the way of warriors.

“I owe you both a debt of gratitude that I can never repay, for playing a large role in finishing the wars that I started,” Finrod said, deep sorrow mingling with deep gratitude in his cornflower blue eyes. 

“We just did what we could, Prince Finrod,” said Legolas, returning the arm clasp.

“Just Finrod, please, for you are kin of my kin, and Gimli, as your oathbrother, is my kin as well,” Finrod said.

“No thanks are necessary, for such aid between kinsman,” replied Gimli gruffly, “But if you did owe us such a debt, kinsman, then you would owe your sister an even greater one.” Gimli did not approve of this ellon, no matter how fond he was of his sister, underestimating Galadriel’s contribution to the cause of defeating Sauron!

Finrod let go their arms and laughed brightly again. Turning back to Galadriel, he said, “So this must be your champion, ‘Tani! As if I could ever fail to give you your due, my beloved baby sister.”

Turning back to Gimli, Finrod explained, “I have already offered my sister any boon she would care to claim of me, in exchange for her great efforts in ending the wars that I could no longer fight in. She also told me that I owed her nothing. When I insisted, she said that she would hold onto my favor in case she ever had need of it. I am appropriately terrified, since the last time she asked me for a favor, it was to aid her friend Luthien’s beloved.”

Turning his gaze to Galadriel again, Finrod said, “I have no regrets for agreeing to help Beren. As I know that you have no regrets for staying on Middle Earth and resisting Sauron. For I know you, my sister.”

“You see?” Sador murmured quietly from behind Gimli’s left shoulder, “They’re impossibly hard to live up to.”

“Oh, nonsense, son-and-nephew mine,” Finrod, who apparently had excellent hearing, scolded Sador, “You serve honorably and well in Anderserme’s Guard, and you’ve served as your brother’s heir every time he’s ruled Anderserme, even though you had no desire to take on such a responsibility.”

“A responsibility which I dearly hope will never fall on my shoulders again,” Sador replied, with a fond smile for his foster-father Finrod and a mischievous grin for Ereinion Gil-galad, the current ruler of Anderserme.

“So, Sador, you have joined your mother’s campaign to have me designate my daughter Rissaurel my heir?” that worthy inquired.

“Well, Elrond already declined you,” Sador pointed out.

“Declined me?” complained Ereinion, though he smiled as spoke, “Elrond laughed all the way to the nearest healing hall. My baby foster brother never did want to rule anything.”

“Looks like you and Elrond have that in common,” Gimli pointed out to Sador.

“Oh yes,” said Sador with a grimace that turned into a laugh, “You’ll fit into our family just fine, Gimli. Now we just have to corrupt Prince Legolas.”

“Just Legolas,” Gimli’s elven brother corrected, with an innocent smile on his face. Gimli managed to choke back his mirth, for Legolas only looked sweet and innocent. In fact, Gimli was quite sure that Legolas was going to lead Sador a merry chase until Galadriel’s younger son finally figured out that the youngest son of Thranduil was quite a card all on his own!

Prince Ingwion of the Vanyarin elves, who was apparently the heir to the ‘High King’ of all of the elves in the West, also thanked Gimli and Legolas for their service. Then Ingwion asked them, the other ring bearers, and Mithiriel and Theli to join him and the other Kings and their representatives in a conference in Lady Calasse’s dining room on the first floor of her cool and sweet-smelling house.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The elven OCs Queen Minaethiel (Thranduil's wife), Queen Felith (Oropher's wife), and Neldiel (Celepharn's wife) who appear in this chapter and possibly also subsequent chapters of this story belong to Emma (AfricanDaisy) and Kaylee, and have been borrowed with their kind permission for me to use in the Greenwood stories in my AU, which is distinct from their AU. Emma and Kaylee's Doriath stories can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/25743 and here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/656492. More of their Greenwood stories can be read in the files section here: https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/LOTR_DFIC/info
> 
> Chapter 6: The Conference
> 
> Quotes:
> 
> A Time For Prayer
> 
> "In times of war and not before,  
> God and the soldier we adore.  
> But in times of peace and all things righted,  
> God is forgotten and the soldier slighted." -Rudyard Kipling
> 
> Ukase
> 
> "When this is over  
> And we come home again,  
> Forget the band  
> And the cheers from the stand,  
> Just have the things  
> Well in hand -  
> The things we fought for.  
> Understand?" - - by C.G. Tiggas
> 
>  
> 
> Excerpt from Previous Chapter:
> 
> Prince Ingwion of the Vanyarin elves, who was apparently the heir to the ‘High King’ of all of the elves in the West, also thanked Gimli and Legolas for their service. Then Ingwion asked them, the other ring bearers, and Mithiriel and Theli to join him and the other Kings and their representatives in a conference in Lady Calasse’s dining room on the first floor of her cool and sweet-smelling manor house.

A long, wide table seemingly hewn from one enormous log of driftwood ran down the huge front room of Lady Calasse’s house. The cool, salt-scented ocean breeze blowing in from the open doors of Calasse’s glass-covered front porch, and the cries of sea birds wheeling overhead, were familiar to Gimli after their many months at sea. What was not so familiar were the smells of juniper trees and vanilla, and the distant hum of chatter and laughter from the pavilions below the manor’s cliffside perch.

The mood around the driftwood table was more solemn, although conversations swirled about between the various elven princes and lords and ladies. Crown Prince Ingwion sat at the head of the table, wearing a crown of diamond stars and robes of such pure white that they seemed to almost glow in the late afternoon sun. Ingwion had brought a scribe with him, some sort of relation of his who was similarly dressed, although Gimli had forgotten the pinch-faced fellow’s name almost as soon as he’d heard it.

Nearest Ingwion to his left sat King Ereinion and his wife Queen Lelien, both dressed in robes of cerulean and gold. Then came youthful Gandalf on his own, for his wife Nienna the Vala had excused herself earlier. Gandalf still wore robes of gray, but now his gray robes were made of velvet so soft it looked like it might be clouds rather than cloth, and float away into the sky.

By Gandalf sat Frodo, Bilbo, and Samwise. Gimli was rather relieved to see that all three were still dressed in hobbity styles of the shire. Their clothing was made of fine fabrics, aye, but they still wore trousers in comfortable earth tones, white shirts, and embroidered waist coats. Frodo’s fawn-colored trousers and white pearl-buttoned shirt were offset by a rich wine-colored waist coat embroidered with forest creatures and trees. Bilbo was similarly dressed, save that his waist coat was a warmer shade of red, and featured some kind of golden fruit that Gimli had never seen before. Samwise wore gray trousers, and a cobalt blue waist coat with golden roses. The rose pattern was very familiar to Gimli, for Samwise most often wore roses, to honor Rosie his wife. 

Lord Elrond’s wife Celebrian sat beside Samwise. She wore a demure gown of pale lavender-pink with a circlet of morganites and opals set in silver, and Gimli noticed that she had the famous thrice-gifted sapphire ring on her slender finger. Her husband Elrond was on her other side, in robes of sapphire blue and storm gray. Theli and Mithiriel sat to Elrond’s left, followed by Erestor and Taminixe. Last on that side of the table were Erestor’s father, Lord Arandil of Gondolin, and Arandil’s mother Lady Laureamoriel. Arandil and Laureamoriel were also Glorfindel’s son and wife, respectively, and were dressed in the gold and green of Glorfindel’s house. 

Lady Calasse sat at the foot of the table opposite Prince Ingwion, her wheat-gold braids coiled on top of her head. To Calasse’s left sat Legolas’ great-grandfather Prince Celepharn, in silver and midnight blue, and his wife the petite Princess Neldiel, in a daringly cut gown of burgundy and rose. Her son, Legolas’ grandfather King Oropher, sat beside her, in robes of forest green velvet and cloth of silver. By Oropher’s side was his wife Felith, who wore a tasteful gown of amaranth pink with forest green and gold embroidery.

Legolas’ mother Minaethiel and brother Thandrin sat to Queen Felith’s left. Princess Minaethiel was dressed in sky blue silk embroidered with buttercups and cherry blossoms, two of Legolas’ favorite flowers. Thandrin was clad in forest-green leggings, a mint green silk undershirt, and a laurel-green tunic with silver embroidery. Like most of the middle-earth ellyn that Gimli was accustomed to, Thandrin wore his black hair in warrior braids. 

Legolas sat between Thandrin and Gimli himself. Lady Galadriel honored Gimli by sitting at his left, and her elder brother Prince Finrod sat beside her, clad in simple leather and homespun. When they first sat down, Galadriel had looked around the table and then at her brother. She'd shaken her had at him, then sent Ilcetiel on an errand. That worthy had returned with a thick gold coronet chased with rubies. Galadriel had offered it to Finrod, who had laughingly donned it. 

Mithrellas sat on the other side of Finrod, wearing a very familiar shade of Dol Amroth blue. The friendly Prince Tuor sat to Mithrellas’ left, dressed in black leggings and a blue-violet tunic embroidered with silver. Tuor’s wife Princess Idril, gowned in royal purple and wearing a golden circlet inset with sapphires and amethysts, sat between her husband and Prince Ingwion’s scribe, whatever-his-name-was. 

Gimli found himself glad that he and his companions had all dressed in their finest, as it let them better hold their own at this table of elven royalty. Not that they couldn’t have managed whatever they wore, but it was always good to look the part. Now, if only Gimli could figure out why they were here!

Gimli found himself looking over to Legolas beside him to see if his elven brother knew why they had been pulled aside by such august personages.

Legolas shook his head infinitesimally, then looked across the table to Mithiriel and Theli. Theli was speaking to Elrond, but Mithiriel saw Legolas’ query. She used a hybrid of dwarven and ranger sign language to signal something to them in the guise of fixing her hair. Gimli thought that it meant ‘put on a show,’ but it also could have meant ‘this merchant will be an easy mark.’ Hand signals had a limited range outside of prearranged meanings. Besides that, Mithiriel tended to wiggle her ring and pinky fingers a little too much when she signed, which rendered even some of the common signs almost unrecognizable. 

Before Gimli could think on it too much further, Prince Ingwion of the Vanyar provided an answer.

“I am sorry to take you away from your reunions,” that worthy said gravely, addressing his remarks to the newly-arrived (and somewhat disheveled) Erestor and Taminixe, as well as to Gimli, Legolas, Frodo, Samwise, Bilbo, Galadriel, Gandalf, Elrond, Mithrellas, Mithiriel, and Theli. “However, I think it best to discuss as soon as possible the schedule and preparations for your upcoming tours of Tol Eressea and the Kingdoms of Aman Proper.”

Mithiriel’s hand sign made more sense to Gimli, given that context. He still didn’t want to be the one to ask “What tour?” Apparently, neither did Legolas. Gimli found himself somewhat envious of Mithiriel and likely Theli as well, who had apparently had at least some sort of advanced warning.

Bilbo harrumphed loudly. “Not another tour! The last one was exhausting enough, and that was, what? A dozen years ago?”

“Tol Eressea has a special ceremony to commemorate the sacrifices made in securing freedom for Midddle Earth every dozen years, Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo affectionately reminded his de-facto foster-father, “We’ve been invited to participate in all of them.”

“Well not this time! Or not me, at least!” said Bilbo firmly, “I’ve seen everything I need to see. I want to finish my latest book. Peace and quiet, that’s all I need!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gimli saw Galadriel, sitting to his left, exchange an amused glance with Elrond and Celebrian across the table.

“Then you won’t mind at all if we take Mistress Norrin with us on the tour,” Celebrian suggested sweetly.

“Take Mistress Norrin?” Asked Bilbo, aghast. “But no one else at New Imladris knows how to cook a proper plum cake!”

“Right,” said Samwise, nodding, “All Uncle Bilbo needs is peace, quiet, and Mistress Norrin to keep doing her good work at her post in New Imladris’ kitchens. Oh, and likely also young Lossia to help him keep his notes straight.”

“Of course I need Lossia! Lossia is far better at that than you or Frodo ever were!” Bilbo objected, “And speaking of Lossia, where is she? Why isn’t she here?”

“I’ll help you find her, shall I?” Mithrellas offered, getting up from her seat by Galadriel with alacrity. 

“Please, Mithrellas,” agreed Galadriel, but then with a hint of mithril to her tone she added, “But do rejoin us after.”

“I scarcely think that I am needed . . .”

“You are.”

“Very well.”

In the quiet left in the wake of Bilbo’s departure, his gold-topped cane tap-tap-tapping against the stone floor, Gimli overheard what he hoped was intended to have been a private conversation.

“Uncle Ingwion,” asked the young blond elf with the pinched expression who’d been drafted as Prince Ingwion’s scribe for this meeting, “Did that halfling mortal really just ask why a very junior healer’s assistant wasn’t invited to a meeting of an abbreviated ruling council?”

“Quiet, Lirindo,” commanded Ingwion, and Gimli liked him better for it. He did make a note to remember that pinched-face-elf was called Lirindo, though. There was no need to be rude, after all.

“But . . .” Lirindo stammered in objection.

“Since the arrival of we Ringbearers here in the West,” Galadriel interrupted, drawing the attention of everyone seated at the long drift wood table, “we have every dozen years commemorated the sacrifices made by all beings in the struggle to keep Middle Earth free from Morgoth’s and Sauron’s oppression, just as Frodo said,” she acknowledged, with a fond nod for Frodo.

Then Galadriel continued, “This year is particularly important, because it is the first year during which we hope to expand the scope of the remembrance and memorial ceremonies in order to commemorate also the sacrifices made in stopping the Maia Alatar’s renegade pupils and their followers, they whom you of Middle Earth called the Blood Mages. This year, we would like to ask all of you who are newly arrived to join us in this endeavor.”

“Of course we will,” Gimli immediately agreed, knowing with full confidence that he could speak not only for himself, but also on behalf of Legolas and their other companions. He did spare a moment to move his hand closer to Legolas, taking pains to keep the movement under the cover of the pale wooden table. Gimli’s elven brother had been captured and tortured by the Blood Mages during the Second Mage War, and was occasionally still troubled by flashbacks and persistent memories from that time.

Gimli’s discretion was rewarded by Legolas’ hand finding his under the table, and squeezing it. From the expression on Legolas’ face, it was more of a, ‘yes, it’s kind of you to be worried, but I’m fine, really’ squeeze, rather than Legolas actually having needed Gimli’s support. But better to offer it unneeded than the alternative. 

Gimli also spared a moment to think that if anyone should be reconsidering the exertion of effort involved in a tour of the West, it wasn’t Bilbo, who seemed quite sturdy despite all of his complaints, but rather Galadriel, who still seemed fragile despite her determination. On their walk up the cliff to the manor, Gimli had noticed with concern that she had leaned heavily on her brother Finrod’s arm.

Finrod, possibly thinking along much the same lines, cast his sister a dissatisfied, querying look. But he did not openly question Galadriel’s ability to endure such a dog-and-pony show.

Gimli observed that Prince Ingwion, too, looked troubled, although whether his concern was for the state of Galadriel’s health or some other reason, Gimli had no idea. Before Ingwion could speak up, Legolas’ brother did.

“I hardly think that Legolas should go straight from his labors on Middle Earth directly to shoring up Aran Ereinion’s darling granddaughter’s pet project,” Thandrin disagreed, “And it’s not a fair thing to ask of Lord Gimli or the others, either.”

“More than just Anderserme’s veterans rely on aid from public coffers, Thandrin,” King Oropher commented somberly. Legolas’ grandfather’s expression was entirely polite and neutral, but Gimli had to wonder if he regretted having insisted that his grandson get to join this meeting after the rather tedious Lirindo had questioned Thandrin’s right to a place at the table just before the meeting started.

Although possibly Oropher was not, because he then acknowledged, “I think that Thandrin makes an excellent point with respect to the timing, however. Would it truly make a great difference to give my grandson Legolas and his companions a year to rest before asking that they undergo such a rigorous tour of duty?”

“It is not the timing which concerns my father the High King Ingwe,” Ingwion interjected in a stately tone of voice, “It is rather the issue of whether it is even appropriate to consider the sacrifices of those who fought in the so-called ‘Blood Mage Wars’ to be in any way comparable to the sacrifices made in the struggles against Morgoth.”

Gimli didn’t even have to worry about finding something to say to that nonsense, because Legolas’ grandfather King Oropher immediately took issue with it.

“I know my son,” Oropher said firmly, “And because Thranduil sent our Greenwood elves to fight the Blood Mages, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is appropriate to consider such warriors’ sacrifices equably.” Oropher hadn’t even raised his voice, but the expression on his face made it clear that he was in deadly earnest.

“I have a great deal of respect for King Thranduil of the Greenwood, Oropher,” countered Calasse, “But I am present at this meeting to represent the interests of my King Olwe and the Lindar, and . . .”

“The who?” interrupted Ingwion’s nephew Lirindo rather loudly, as he scratched away at his parchment.

A dismayed silence followed his question. It lasted long enough for the young Vanyarin prince to look up and ask, “I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

It was Elrond who diplomatically supplied an answer, “My great-great-grandfather-in-law King Olwe and his people prefer to be called ‘the Lindar,’ which means ‘the Singers of the Sea Shore,’ as opposed to the name by which some call them, ‘the Teleri,’ Prince Lirindo.” Elrond said in a kindly fashion, as if it was a mistake that anybody might make and not the dreadful social gaffe that Gimli recognized that it must be, based on the careful non-expressions on the faces of most of the elves present, and the vaguely horrified and appalled looks on Princess Neldiel’s, Lady Celebrian’s, and Prince Tuor’s more expressive faces. 

“But there’s nothing wrong with being called the Teleri! It just means that they arrived last out of all the proper elven clans!” Prince Lirindo objected.

“Please, my cousins and friends, forgive my nephew,” said Ingwion, his eyes wide with disbelief as he regarded Lirindo, “I am sure that what he meant to say was that he sees no insult in being a member of the third elven clan to arrive in Aman.” 

Calasse lifted one palm in the polite elven version of a shrug, “It doesn’t much matter to me whether Prince Lirindo refers to my people as the Lindar or the Teleri in his notes, although it will put my King Olwe in a more accommodating mood if he uses the former term. My point is that King Olwe joins King Ingwe in expressing concern over whether it is right to extend official recognition as war heroes to elves who fought only in the Blood Mage Wars. King Olwe is of the opinion that such lesser-scale conflicts were in truth strictly between different kingdoms of the Secondborn. He and his council take the position that those elves who participated in the Blood Mage Wars did so only on the basis of a personal loyalty that they felt towards individual Men and families of Men. Which, while admirable,” Calasse nodded respectfully towards Legolas, “still ought not qualify them for the same rights and respect which all elves owe to those who fought Morgoth and his servant the Deceiver.”

Gimli offered his hand under the table again, just as Legolas extended his own. This time it was Gimli who squeezed. Legolas squeezed back, and this time their hands stayed clasped together under the table, lending one another strength. Legolas had suffered the greater personal physical toll during those conflicts, but Gimli had lost dwarven friends and kinsmen from Aglarond and Erebor, as well as many common elven and human friends. 

It was Galadriel who spoke up next, her tone politely neutral, “I am aware of my Uncle Olwe’s position, Calasse, and that of his council. What I would like to know, and what I feel would be of interest to those present today, is what YOU think.”

Calasse laughed, “You’ve got me there, my lass. I think that the Blood Mages would have become all of Middle Earth’s problem, given time. Just as it took us centuries to finally agree that the Deceiver would have been.”

Finrod, seated on the other side of Galadriel, leaned forward. “Am I correct in assuming that everyone’s favorite Uncle Cirdan feels the same way, Calasse?” he asked.

“You are,” Calasse conceded, “Or at least so my love Cirdan has written to me, at various different times, in his letters. Including those letters brought to me just today by young Lord Erestor.”

Gimli stifled a chuckle at Erestor being referred to as young. Although given the vintage of many of the elves in the room, Gimli had to admit that Erestor was ‘young!’

“While that is all very interesting, Finrod,” Ingwion said in the tone of someone who was merely humoring a friend, “what is of more immediate import to the question at hand is what position your father Finarfin, and his Noldorin council in Tirion have taken on the issue.”

“My father agrees with your father, and his council narrowly voted to take the same position,” Finrod admitted, “But my father will only rule for another dozen years. And I agree with my sister, Calasse, and Uncle Cirdan.”

Prince Lirindo, who just couldn’t seem to stop stepping on toes, spoke up again, still looking down at his parchment, his hand still taking notes, “But wouldn’t the Noldorin Council still vote against you, even after you become King, Prince Finrod? Have you not in the past always waived your Kingly prerequisite when your council took a different position? Or am I mistaken?”

Finrod grinned wolfishly, “Oh, you’re not wrong, cousin Lirindo. But you haven’t taken into account that the King of the Noldor in Aman has the right to appoint all of his prospective heirs to his council. My father currently accounts only his father Finwe’s male heirs and their male heirs, etc., as eligible to inherit rule of the Noldor in Tirion. There are, as you may know, eleven of us such direct male-line heirs. In addition to that number, I of course consider my father to be one of my heirs, and fully expect that the Noldorin council will vote to confirm him to rule the Noldor on Aman again after my one hundred and forty-four year term ends. However, the Noldorin council doesn’t have to approve of an elf as my heir in order for me to consider that elf a potential heir of mine, and therefore appoint that elf to my council in such capacity.”

“An interesting point of law that I am sure you will twist to your own ends quite easily, Finda,” Prince Ingwion observed with disapproval, but Gimli was fairly sure that his approbation was laced with no small amount of amusement.

“Well, you see Cousin Ingwion,” Finrod explained easily, still smiling, “my father’s council voted against my motion to consider veterans of the Blood Mage Wars as eligible for veteran warrior status under Noldorin law by only ten votes. However, the pool of elves I consider to be my potential heirs also includes my grandfather Finwe’s female descendants, and their children. Well, at least all of them who have already met the fifty-year government service requirement. And that group numbers well over a dozen, and includes of course my dear sister Galadriel and her children and granddaughter, our darling cousin Idril and her grandson Elrond, my granddaughter Raniel, and . . .”

“Raniel?” Lirindo interrupted with a disbelieving chuckle, “Isn’t she Lord Astaro’s daughter? The one who keeps trying to qualify for Avallone’s Eastern Fleet?” 

There was a moment of profound silence.

“Raniel,” said King Ereinion quietly, “is also my granddaughter.”

“And,” Legolas’ great-grandmother Princess Neldiel added pointedly, “A very charming young elleth.”

Ereinion gave Neldiel a grateful but somewhat baffled nod, “Her mother would be glad to hear you say so, your highness.” 

“As am I,” said Ereinion’s matronly wife Lelien, “Thank you, Neldiel. Raniel has a very good heart, even if she is a bit shy and overly focused on her own interests at times.”

Frodo nodded determinedly at that, and said in his gentle way, “Raniel was very kind to my Uncle Bilbo. I don’t know if he could have finished his last book without her.” 

“Raniel,” Finrod concluded, “is a descendant of Finwe. And she has met the government service requirement by working for fifty-two years in Tirion’s Mountain Rangers. She is therefore qualified to be one of my heirs. As is my Aunt Findis, for that matter." 

Ingwion chuckled, “Good luck convincing your Aunt Findis to sit on your council, Finrod. She has very traditional ideas when it comes to an elleth's proper place.”

Finrod laughed and waved a hand in concession, “No, Aunt Findis would only consider herself a voting member of Tirion’s council under great protest,” he agreed, “But you might be surprised what she would be willing to do for her darling golden-haired grandson Glorfindel. Moreover, I also consider my aunt Findis’ descendants who have completed the necessary level of government or military service to be amongst my potential heirs.”

“But only Prince Glorfindel Finarfinchil was ever officially recognized as such,” Lirindo criticized, still writing away. 

“True,” Finrod cheerfully admitted, “But the particular council appointments we are speaking of are, by law and custom, at the King’s discretion. Only Glorfindel was ever officially recognized by the Noldorin Council as a potential heir to the Noldorin kingship. And that vote probably only went his way because Glorfindel was, at the time of that recognition, the only other adult male member of the House of Finwe present in Aman or Tol Eressea other than myself and my father. But, again, council recognition of an heir isn’t required. Only my personal recognition. So, Glorfindel’s son Arandil would qualify. So too would Arandil’s son Erestor,” Finrod added, with an affectionate nod for the taken-aback Erestor, “should Erestor ever serve in a government or military position in Tirion for fifty years or more.”

“Does the fact that Erestor isn’t even a Noldorin citizen trouble you at all, Finrod?” asked Ingwion, exasperated but clearly also fighting a smile.

“You’re mistaken, cousin Ingwion,” Finrod said kindly, “Under Noldorin law, any veteran of any of Middle Earth’s wars against Morgoth, Sauron, or their allies . . .”

“And such allies would, technically, include the Blood Mages . . .” interjected Erestor’s father Arandil, quietly enough that Prince Finrod could keep speaking without acknowledging the point.

“Any such veteran,” Finrod continued, “who can verify his claim to having one or more grandparents of direct Noldorin ancestry, and who serves the Noldorin government or military in Tirion for at least fifty years, is considered to be a Noldorin citizen. And my cousin Erestor fought against Sauron in the Battle of the Last Alliance, and in numerous smaller skirmishes.”

“Really?” interrupted Lirindo disbelievingly, “But Lord Erestor dresses like a scholar!”

“The clothes do not make the elf, Lirindo,” Ingwion said impatiently, “please cease interrupting our deliberations unless you have a point which is vital to the integrity of the proceedings.” 

“Yes, Uncle Ingwion.”

“Thank you, nephew. Now, cousin Finrod, I think we all take your point that you will have far more than the dozen additional council votes you would need to carry the day on Tirion’s Council once you become King of the Noldor in Aman. But, as you yourself pointed out, that day is over twelve years away. At this point, I believe our discourse has established that all of the Kingdoms of Aman Proper are against recognizing veterans of the Blood Mage Wars as veterans of the struggles against Morgoth and Sauron under the laws which govern the West.”

“The laws which govern the West Entire?” inquired Celepharn’s wife Neldiel sweetly, “or the laws which govern Aman Proper?”

“Does Princess Neldiel even have an official position at this gathering, given that it is essentially an abbreviated ruling council meeting?” Lirindo asked, clearly frustrated. Gimli remembered that Lirindo had complained at the outset about Neldiel’s very presence at the meeting, as well as that of Thandrin, and of Aran Ereinion’s wife Lelien, Legolas’ mother Minaethiel, and Legolas’ grandmother Felith.

That had not gone over well with Legolas’ grandfather Oropher or his great-grandfather Celepharn, or with Galadriel, for that matter.

“My cousin Felith is King Oropher’s co-ruler, as his Queen,” Galadriel had pointed out levelly, “As was Neldiel a co-ruler with her husband Celepharn, when they ruled Eryn Brongalen prior to Oropher’s rebirth and ascension. Today I believe that they are here as representatives of King Dior and Queen Nimloth, whose duties in Doriath Gaeronwest prevent them from being present at this meeting.”

“We can speak for ourselves!” Neldiel had objected, with an irritated glare at Galadriel.

“As has amply and often been proven,” Gimli’s lady had agreed, with a small smile playing about her lips.

Neldiel had narrowed her pretty blue-green eyes, but hadn’t deigned to say anything further.

“My daughter-by-law Minaethiel is here as my Queen’s scribe,” King Oropher of Eryn Brongalen had explained, “And my grandson Thandrin is present as mine.” Since Ingwion had already claimed the right to have a scribe present at the meeting, it would have been impolite of him to have objected to one of the Tol Eressean kingdoms also having scribes present.

“I am not my husband’s co-ruler,” sweet chestnut haired Queen Lelien had said, “But the Warriors’ Support and Advancement Fund is near and dear to my heart.”

“And I value my wife’s counsel,” Ereinion had added supportively, “if necessary, my Queen Lelien can be considered my scribe, for the day.”

“Oh, but my love, I do have such terrible handwriting . . .” Lelien lamented, with a straight face but a laugh in her eyes. 

“Leave it be, Lirindo,” Ingwion had commanded, and that had all been before the meeting had even gotten started! Gimli was not surprised that Legolas' kin took umbrage to Lirindo slighting his great-grandmother again. 

“My wife,” said Prince Celepharn coldly in response to Lirindo’s second objection to Neldiel having the opportunity to voice her opinion, “was personally selected by King Dior and Queen Nimloth to share with me the duty and honor of representing Doriath Gaeronwest, should a meeting such as this be convened upon the arrival of our great-grandson Legolas, our cousins Ecthelion and Mithiriel, and their companions.”

“And Neldiel raises a valid point,” Calasse agreed, “Ingwion? What say you?”

“It was long ago agreed upon that, when the Kingdoms of Tol Eressea and Aman Proper are in conflict, that the laws of Aman Proper should prevail,” Ingwion said, in a soft and patient tone, “Those of you who were present at the founding of Anderserme and Doriath Gaeronwest will recall that this agreement was reached in exchange for the Kingdoms of Aman Proper helping to finance and supply the new Kingdoms of Tol Eressea.”

“However,” Ingwion continued, “As Finrod, Galadriel, Celepharn, or Oropher will point out if I don’t, there are times when the laws of Aman Proper may apply only in Aman Proper, without conflicting with the separate laws governing only the kingdoms of Tol Eressea. It is possible that this is one of those times. What says Marillaeglir?”

“Marillaeglir didn’t think to take toll a vote on this ahead of time,” said Idril with a self-conscious smile, “Or at least Elured, Anwen, Tuor and I didn’t. But the ruler of each of the Tol Eressean member kingdoms, or at least a representative, is present here today. I’m sure that King Elured and Queen Anwen won’t mind if we take an informal tally. Elured directed that Marillaeglir in and of itself votes yes for including veterans of the Blood Mage Wars, which will only matter if there’s a tie. Ereinion?”

Ereinion smiled at his wife, then voted, “Anderserme is also in favor.”

“Or Lelien would have you sleeping in your study for upsetting your granddaughter Raniel and your daughter Tanien and their warrior's defense fund,” teased Tuor, before asking, “Celepharn, Neldiel, how votes Doriath Gaeronwest?”

“Doriath Gaeronwest is undecided at this time,” said Neldiel reluctantly, after sharing a long look with her husband Celepharn, “So Dior asked that we abstain, should the question come up.”

“The issue is on the agenda for discussion during our summer council at New Menegroth,” Celepharn added.

“So that’s an aye for Anderserme, and an abstention for Doriath Gaeronwest,” Idril summarized, before going on to ask, “Arandil, Laureamoriel – how votes my father Turgon’s kingdom of Gondolin Earrilye?”

“On the basis of a very forceful series of letters from our King Turgon’s valued advisor my honored lord father Glorfindel,” Arandil began, with a gracious, amused smile, “Gondolin Earrilye is in favor of extending the legal rights and protections of veteran warrior status to veterans of the Blood Mage Wars, including to veterans of ONLY the Blood Mage Wars.” 

“Thank you, Arandil,” said Tuor.

Idril immediately added, “But please don't pick issues with the wording yet, Arandilya, as hard as we all know that is for you. Let’s keep it to a basic yay or nay. And now we have two for, and one abstention. Oropher, Felith, how votes Eryn Brongalen?”

“As we’ve stated in the past,” Oropher said with quiet certainty, “Eryn Brongalen will enforce here in Tol Eressea those decisions made by our son Thranduil in the Greenwood in Middle Earth, unless there is a specific compelling reason not to do so. Aran Thranduil decided to send warriors to fight the Blood Mages. We will honor the sacrifices of those warriors just as we honor the sacrifices of all of the warriors of the Greenwood.”

“So that tallies to three in favor, and one abstention,” Tuor summarized, “Unless my math is off, that puts us at Marillaeglir in favor of treating veterans of the Blood Mage Wars as veterans of the wars against Morgoth and Sauron for purposes of Tol Eressean law. That is, unless Galador Annun, Avallone, or the Laiquendi have an objection?”

“King Amroth and Queen Nimrodel directed me to vote against, on behalf of Galador Annun,” Galadriel contributed neutrally.

There was a moment of quiet across the table. Gimli could understand why, as even if Galadriel was here representing the nephew who had once been the King of Lothlorien before her, she surely couldn’t agree with the vote she’d just been forced to cast.

Finrod burst out laughing. “Go ahead, Neldiel, say it!” he urged.

Neldiel made a face at him, but kept her silence.

“Fine, I’ll ask,” said Finrod. Turning to his sister beside him, he asked playfully, “Did it hurt to cast that vote, sister dear?”

“It is not the decision that I would have made,” Galadriel acknowledged calmly, “But I am not the ruler of the kingdom of the elves of the Goldenwood here in the West. Amroth and Nimrodel are. Based on their current knowledge and understanding, they cannot see where the Blood Mage Wars were not a strictly human conflict. However,” Galadriel said, turning her head to regard first Gimli and Legolas, and then Mithiriel, Theli, and Erestor, “Amroth and Nimrodel are interested in hearing the viewpoints of those elves and other beings who actually fought in such wars, before reaching a final decision. Though their vote for today will remain a Nay.”

“Numerically, that doesn’t matter,” Princess Idril said, “Neither the Nay nor the interest, although let’s move asking our new arrivals their opinion to the next item on the agenda after we have Marillaeglir’s final vote.”

“I have no objection to that,” said Galadriel, nodding respectfully first to Gimli and Legolas, and then to Mithiriel, Theli, and Erestor.

“Thank you,” Idril acknowledged, before turning her attention to Elrond and Celebrian, “Grandson, granddaughter, how votes my great-granddaughter’s city of Avallone?”

“Andreth is in favor,” Celebrian answered, “And our daughter would also ask that, should the vote go against today, we seek out information and opinions from not only our new arrivals of today, but also other newly arrived elves, before reaching a final decision on behalf of Marillaeglir and Tol Eressea.” 

“Thank you, granddaughter,” said Tuor, “And that brings the vote to four in favor, one against, and one abstention. Now, do the Laiquendi even have a representative here?”

“Their Chieftain Denethor didn’t reply to my invitation,” Galadriel answered serenely, “Although I’m not entirely certain that I have the correct address for his camp this spring, it may not even have reached him in time.” Turning to the representatives from Doriath Gaeronwest, Galadriel asked, “If I remember correctly, Denethor generally allows Doriath Gaeronwest to speak for his people when they have no representative.”

“He does,” raven-haired Celepharn agreed, “On the one hand, I can’t see where Denethor or the Laiquendi would have a strong opinion on the issue, either way. We’ve certainly never discussed the issue with him, nor have Dior or Nimloth, to the best of my knowledge. On the other hand, the Laiquendi are generally against the elves getting involved in matters which are not their concern.”

“On the third hand,” Neldiel continued, rather to her husband’s bemusement, “Or, I suppose, the first foot? In any case, Denethor was very fond of his aunt Dilys, and delegated some of his leadership duties to her before he died on Middle Earth. Dilys died and hasn’t yet been reborn, but her adopted son was Eldun, who was born Elurin of Doriath.”

Gimli turned to look at Theli, who was blank-faced. Mithiriel, Gimli thought, was probably holding her husband’s hand under the table.

“Elurin has refused to answer to any other name than Eldun,” Neldiel continued, after a sympathetic glance towards Theli, “And he and his people also want nothing to do with any government of any kind. However, his grandson is present today. Ecthelion Diorchil,” Neldiel said to Theli, “Do you have an opinion on how the Laiquendi would vote?”

Theli tilted his head thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t speak for Denethor’s Laiquendi who are settled here in the West, as I’ve never met them or spoken to any of them on this side of the sea. The Laiquendi who remain in Middle Earth largely recognize Thranduil as their King. Of those who don’t, even they remain on friendly and cooperative terms with the Greenwood and our King Thranduil. And,” Theli ended, “some of those Laiquendi did choose to go and battle the Blood Mages. Though they generally chose to do so under Prince Legolas’ command.”

“So,” Tuor said, “To give the final word for Marillaeglir on behalf of Tol Eressea, we’re in favor, with three votes for, one vote against, one abstention, and a rather stereotypical ‘maybe yes, maybe no, maybe yes,’ from the Laiquendi.”

Ingwion nodded gravely, then acknowledged, “Lirindo, please record that as of now, the Vanyar take no issue with Tol Eressea’s laws, to the extent which they apply only within Tol Eressea, differing from the laws which govern Aman Proper in respect of the inclusion of the veterans of the Blood Mage Wars within the category of veterans of the wars against Morgoth and his servants.”

“Ah,” remarked Arandil lightly, “The servants of Sauron, as allies of Sauron, arguably already include the Blood Mages.”

“Don’t write that down, Lirindo,” Ingwion directed his nephew, giving Arandil a slightly reproving look as he did so, before adding more thoughtfully, “Or rather, do write down that the representative from Gondolin Earrilye expressed his personal opinion on that point, after the decision had already been made.”

Arandil nodded back agreeably.

“Now that the decision has been made for the nonce,” said Galadriel, “Do any of our new arrivals have any opinions that they wish to share on the point?”

Gimli felt that it was the kind of question they should have asked at the beginning rather than the end. But he had just arrived in the West today, he had to admit. And being the dwarf in a group of mostly elves, one human, two hobbits, and one Maia, he thought that he’d wait and let Legolas, Theli, or Erestor speak first. As hard as it was for Gimli not to speak up on this one particular issue, just so that Legolas didn’t have to when his emotional wounds from those wars were still sometimes raw.

Legolas looked to Theli, Theli looked to Legolas, and Mithiriel looked to Erestor. Erestor sighed, which relieved Gimli, because he took it as Erestor’s recognizing and accepting that he had just been elected their group’s spokes-elf. 

“Speaking as someone who was present at a number of the meetings where Lord Celeborn of East Lorien, Aran Thranduil of the Greenwood, King Thorin Stonehelm the III of Erebor, and their human allies made their decisions,” Erestor began carefully, “the consensus amongst that group of worthies was that the Blood Mages, although relatively small in number and geographic influence, did constitute a threat which could, if unchecked, grow sufficient in magnitude to threaten all of Middle Earth.”

“Lord Ingloren and Lady Ambaraxiel of Imladris were of that opinion,” Mithiriel added, “As were my grandfather, Elessar Telcontar, and my uncle, Eldarion Telcontar, now King of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor.” 

“Lady Ambaraxiel is of that opinion?” Ingwion inquired intently.

“She is.” Mithiriel confirmed.

“Who is Lady Ambaraxiel?” asked Lirindo.

“The daughter of Master Aulequen,” Ingwion answered, appearing for the first time since Gimli had seen him something other than perfectly calm. In fact, he appeared downright unsettled.

“Anatar-the-Aran Ingwe’s chief architect and respected councilor? That Master Aulequen?” Lirindo asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” Ingwion answered firmly, if a bit absently. After betraying for the first time an almost human level of agitation by tapping his fingernails on the table, Prince Ingwion asked, “And we are absolutely certain that these Blood Mages have been defeated? Destroyed, root and branch?”

“That certainly sounds like a question that someone would ask if they didn't think that the Blood Mages were a real threat,” said Lord Arandil, in an even tone, though clearly his comment was intended to be sarcastic. Gimli wanted to laugh, but decided that it would be best to stay silent. He couldn’t help smiling. Nor, apparently, could Princess Neldiel, Lady Celebrian, or Lady Taminixe, although Lord Elrond and Lord Erestor remained remarkably composed. Lady Laureamoriel laid a calming hand on her son Arandil’s arm. 

“Should I write that . . .” Lirindo began.

“No, Lirindo. Arandil, I do take your point, but please do be silent for now,” Ingwion said sternly. “If Master Aulequen’s most promising student feels that this was a real threat,” Ingwion continued, “that potentially changes my impression of the matter. Given that, I wish to first determine that the threat has, in fact, been put to rest. Permanently.”

For the first time since apologizing for interrupting their reunions, Ingwion turned to seriously consider Gimli, Legolas, Theli, Mithiriel, and Erestor, and asked that question again.

Erestor sighed. “Definitively? I cannot say for certain, Prince Ingwion. Mithiriel?”

“All of the Blood Mages we knew of by name either surrendered or were killed in combat,” Mithiriel reported, “and their followers are either dead, imprisoned, quarantined on various small islands or oases, or scattered and remaining very quiet.”

“All of the Blood Mages that you ‘knew’ of?” Prince Ingwion asked, “And what do you know of those who are ‘scattered, and very quiet?’”

“With respected to the scattered and quiet followers, my Uncle Eldarion’s spies are good, and his allies’ spies aren’t half-bad, either,” Mithiriel answered, “To the best of their knowledge, those followers who escaped are relatively inconsequential and not in contact with anyone of power. But with respect to your first question . . . if someone has never drawn power to themselves to try to change the fabric of the great song while someone else who could tell what they were doing was watching,” Mithiriel explained, “then how do you know that such a person is a mage at all? And even if someone can do magic, and realizes that they can do magic, and works hard enough to learn how to do more than light a candle by moving a flame to the candle from a hearth fire two feet away, how do you know that they’d even be willing to hurt someone else, let alone kill someone else, in order to gain more power?”

“I think that we are getting somewhat far afield,” King Oropher interrupted, “Although I believe that the threat was real because my son Thranduil thought that it was real, I am not thoroughly convinced that these ‘human mages’ really could perform ‘magic’ in and of themselves, through blood sacrifice or otherwise. How do we know that they weren’t just making dangerous mischief with items crafted by Sauron, which just LOOKED like magic?”

“I beg your pardon, Daerada Oropher,” said Legolas incredulously, “But we know that the Blood Mages could cause fire to rain down out of the sky to decimate an opposing army because we were there, in that opposing army, WATCHING THEM DO IT. We were there, praying to the Valar that our mages could move the fire or extinguish it before it burned through our shields. We know that the Blood Mages could create an army of their own out of nothing but dirt and water and blood because we had to fight through wave after wave of mud soldiers. They couldn’t be killed, and even when they were hacked into dust, that dust and muck tried to trip us and choke us.”

Intently, Legolas continued, “We know that they had spells that allowed them to control orcs, trolls, goblins and weak-minded men, elves, and dwarves because we had to fight them. When such beings were hurt enough or the Blood Mage who had stolen and enchanted their blood died, we saw them come out of their ensorcelled state like swimmers coming out of deep water, barely aware of what they’d done, then sobbing and choking and sometimes dying of shock and horror after learning that it had all been real.”

“We know that such beings were truly being controlled by someone outside them,” Theli solemnly added, “because I had my hands in the chests of some of those beings, stitching their bleeding hearts back together, when those hearts exploded, or simply disappeared. Neither of which I'd ever before seen a heart do in all of my thousands of years as a healer.”

“I know,” Legolas said brokenly, “I know, that they could really make your blood boil in your veins when you refused to do their will, refused to fall under their spell, because their Chief Mage, Nergui, did it to me. I screamed until my throat bled as he spilled the blood from my left wrist into a dish and muttered over it with his acolytes. I’ve broken bones and been pierced by poisoned arrows and cut with dirty knives, and none of it ever felt like the searing, burning pain I felt through every inch of my body when Nergui stared at me and gestured after muttering over my blood. I screamed until I passed out from pain. Then I woke up, and he stared and gestured again, and I screamed until I lost consciousness again. I couldn’t even get the breath to curse him. That happened . . . twelve times, before I lost track." 

Legolas stumbled to a pause, then heaved a deep breath and continued, "I know, that the Blood Mages' power was real magic, and not mere poison, because when Faramir's granddaughter Sarangerel spilled Nergui's bowl of blood and broke his concentration, the pain finally stopped. That also told me that Sarangerel was still loyal to us, so that I heeded her warning to hold on to hope and not let myself fade. Even after they cast their spells and made my blood boil again, I trusted. But still, when Gimli, Theli, Rumil, and Elboron’s men rescued me, I didn’t even know how long I’d been gone. I was shocked when I learned that it had only been three days.”

All the while that Legolas spoke, he'd held tightly to Gimli's hand. When he finished speaking, he looked down, lost still in his memories. The expression of the elves 'round the table betrayed their horror. Gimli suspected that Legolas' mother and brother were also holding hands under the table, and King Oropher looked tormented, for having brought these terrible memories to the forefront of his grandson's mind. 

“You’ve been very quiet all this time, Olorin,” Princess Neldiel said to Gandalf, breaking the ensuing silence, “What do you think of the magnitude of threat posed by these Blood Mages, and the reality of their magic?"

"It is not for me to say what you elves should do when you govern yourselves," said Gandalf thoughtfully, "as you well know, my Lady Neldiel. I am here today as the former bearer of Narya only, to join the progresses as such and encourage support of those others who fought against the Deceiver. But I will say that should you ask my brother Pallando what he thinks of his and Alatar's former students . . . well, he is still in the gardens of Lorien recovering from the wounds they inflicted upon him as they bled him and used his blood to cast their spells for centuries. And he would have been slain 'ere he could be rescued, were it not for the efforts of the Allied Kingdoms' spy Sarangerel Faramiriel and the orc Taur-Ug, called the Chain Pulverizer."

"I fought orcs during the War of Wrath," Prince Ingwion said quietly, "And I cannot believe that one of those foul creatures risked its life to save a Maia." 

"I fought the orcs during the War of the Last Alliance and throughout the Second and Third Ages," said Erestor, "And I found it hard to believe, at the time. But the orcs changed, after Sauron died. They had the opportunity to choose their own ways of life and their own allegiances. And not all of them chose to kill and maim." 

"Taur-Ug helped Sarangerel because she was kind to him," Mithiriel explained, "She was the first person to be kind to him in his memory." 

"I think that we have moved rather far afield again," Calasse interrupted, "Our new arrivals have given us much to think about. But it is undoubted that even in Aman Proper the progress will help to raise funds for the veterans of the struggles against Sauron. So let's speak of that, instead." 

"If we are to speak of that," Oropher interjected, "Then why can it not wait a season? Until my grandson and his companions have had a chance to rest, at the least." 

It was kind and motherly Queen Lelien who offered an explanation, “You must forgive us please, Prince Legolas, Lord Gimli, and your newly arrived companions as well,” she began, speaking with her hands as well as her words in a way that few elves did, “But many of us here in the West never lived on Middle Earth. I only know a little of your struggles, and that because I accompanied my father on his ship to Middle Earth when the Host of the Valar sailed to fight in the War of Wrath. Most of the elves who live in Tol Eressea, let alone Aman, have never seen armed conflict. They do not understand that war was not a choice for you, in Middle Earth. They cannot conceive of a situation where the choice was either violence, or slavery and death.”

“Because of this,” Lelien continued, as Gimli tried to adjust his world view to take into account her words, “it is hard for them to understand the assistance that newly arriving soldiers, and reborn soldiers, and their families, sometimes need. They don’t understand battle sickness, or survivor’s guilt on that scale, or panicked flashbacks. They don’t understand the need for re-training to non-combat oriented careers. All of that, you see, costs money.”

“And that’s where these tours come in,” Elrond supplied, with a game half-smile. “We’re sorry to ask, but it would help if you could all come to each capital city in Tol Eressea, sit on a stage, and tell some of your stories. To the extent that you each feel comfortable, of course.” 

“You’re skipping steps, nephew,” Calasse lectured Elrond patiently, “Connect the dots. Assume they’re as unfamiliar with how things are done here as you were a little over a century ago.”

“What Aunt Calasse means,” Lady Celebrian explained, with a soft, fond I-told-you-so smile for her husband, “Is that there are both private and public funds in each Kingdom which help newly arrived and newly reborn soldiers – and their families - adapt to the particular challenges of their new lives here in the West. In part, these funds rely on private donations, and the more heroes - and the more colorful those heroes are – the more those donations pour in.”

“And on the public side,” Lord Arandil, Erestor’s father, picked up the explanation, “the more public support there is for our returned soldiers, and the more public understanding there is of why it was necessary for them to fight and the struggles they faced, the easier of a time we poor well-meaning councilors have in convincing our tyrannical rulers and their despotic heirs and council lords to vote for allocating greater amounts of tax money to the cause.”

“Does using such colorful adjectives to describe your rulers help?” asked Mithiriel, with a whimsical little smile.

“Only when you’ve got the right rulers,” Lord Arandil answered with a grin and a wink. In that moment, Gimli could clearly see him for Lord-the-Captain Glorfindel’s son, in one of that worthy’s lighter moments.

“I’ll remember to tell dear cousin Turgon that you said so,” Finrod told Arandil, not bothering to fight a smile of his own.

“You might as well,” said Lady Laureamoriel, Glorfindel’s wife, who was with her son representing the interests of Gondolin Earrilye at the meeting, “Arandil says far more outrageous things to our very tolerant King every other Third Day.”

“Never say something behind your King’s back that you’re not willing to say to his face, that’s my motto,” Arandil jested, “Now, can we adjourn in favor of a more detail-oriented working breakfast tomorrow morning? There’s no sense talking logistics before pulling in a half dozen more staff members a piece. Even then, we’ll have to break things down kingdom-by-kingdom. We’re here for a week, we’ve time enough to figure this out.” 

“Very well, Arandil,” said Ingwion, clearly amused by Erestor’s father’s continued insouciance, “I’m in favor of adjourning for now. That would give our newly arrived guests time to rest before the supper which I understand is to served on the beach. Unless anyone else has any objection? Idril, Tuor? The two of you are speaking for Marillaeglir, are you not?” 

“We have no objection,” Princess Idril assured her cousin Ingwion, “and I’ll ask my scribe Hyardis to coordinate with Prince Lirindo in drawing up a list of what needs to be on the agenda.” 

The meeting did break up at that point. Erestor and Taminixe were the first to drift away, soon followed by Elrond and Celebrian, with Theli and Mithiriel in tow.

Gimli was reluctant to leave Galadriel before her handmaiden/guard Ilcetiel or her son Sador had reappeared. Prince Finrod clearly cared deeply for his sister, but he had a large number of other demands on his time and attention.

Legolas didn’t want to leave without Gimli, so the two of them, and Thandrin, who didn’t want to leave without Legolas, were still standing by Galadriel when Mithrellas reappeared.

“I can understand why Prince Legolas and Lord Gimli should play an integral part in this year’s tour,” Mithrellas said, “But I cannot understand why you wish for me to continue to participate, Galadriel. I was only a ring-bearer for a season, just until I delivered Nenya to you in the Golden Wood. And besides that . . .”

“You were Celebrimbor’s apprentice, Mithrellas,” Galadriel interrupted tiredly, “He cannot be here, but you are. And winning the war wasn’t just about winning the war. To save some of what we fought for, we have to fight again and again, with words and with memories. Stand up, Mithrellas. Your long-daughters did, and are still.”

“Do you ever even listen to yourself, Galadriel?” asked Legolas’ tiny great-grandmother Neldiel, “You sound like a peacekeeper’s recruitment spiel.”

“Hmm,” murmured Galadriel, seemingly too tired to even give a real answer.

That caused Neldiel to pause, her arm in Celepharn’s, and her attractive face going from gently mocking to genuinely concerned.

Just then Ilcetiel and Sador returned, Ilcetiel to assist her Lady to her chambers to rest, and Sador to be dispatched to show Gimli to his rooms to rest before supper.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The elven OCs Queen Minaethiel (Thranduil's wife), Queen Felith (Oropher's wife), and Neldiel (Celepharn's wife) who are mentioned in this chapter belong to Emma (AfricanDaisy) and Kaylee, and have been borrowed with their kind permission for me to use in the Greenwood stories in my AU, which is distinct from their AU. Emma and Kaylee's Doriath stories can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/25743 and here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/656492. More of their Greenwood stories can be read in the files section here: https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/LOTR_DFIC/info
> 
> Excerpt from Chapter 6:
> 
> Just then Ilcetiel and Sador returned, Ilcetiel to assist her Lady to her chambers to rest, and Sador to be dispatched to show Gimli to his rooms to rest before supper.

“Lord Gimli is sharing a suite with my brother Legolas,” Thandrin pointed out irritably, “I can just as easily guide Gimli at the same time. There’s no need for you to accompany us, Sador.” 

“Now, now, cousin,” Sador replied cheerfully, “You know how important it is to humor one’s mother. Besides, you wouldn’t be so cruel as to deprive yourself and our companions of my company, would you?”

To Gimli’s amusement, Thandrin gritted his teeth but didn’t offer a reply to that. Legolas was stifling a smile as well, in what Gimli thought was an admirable effort not to actually laugh at his older brother’s discomfort, at least given how much Legolas’ laurel-green eyes were dancing with mirth. 

“Here we are,” Sador announced grandly when they reached a door near the end of a long hall, “Your rooms for the next week.”

The door opened into a sitting room of sorts. Storm shutters and broad glass windows were open to the cool of a stand of pines, the babble of a nearby brook, and the constant song of the winds of the sea. The floor was made of flat, polished white stones, complimented by soft carpets in shades of gray, green, and blue. A much smaller driftwood table than the one in the great room sat before a hearth in which burned a merry little fire. Three mismatched but comfortable seeming chairs crowded round the table, and there was a long forest-green velvet settee under the window.

On one side of the settee lounged Lithidhren, in a sky-blue tunic and white leggings, writing in a large leather-bound volume. His sister lounged on the other side of the settee, clad in a loose flowing gown of sky-blue and laurel-green silk, and apparently conversing with a parakeet with her sandal-clad feet in her elegant twin brother’s lap. The two reminded Gimli suddenly of nothing so much as Eowyn with her owl or her cats or her stud book, and Faramir with his beloved scrolls and scholarly tomes. There was nothing of romance between Legolas’ twin siblings, of course, but still . . . there was something that called to mind Faramir and Eowyn.

Then the moment was gone, and the twins were greeting Legolas and Thandrin and Sador, and Gimli himself. Gimli greeted them but then returned to his survey of the surroundings.

The walls of the sitting room were of rich brown wood, varnished smooth as satin. On the walls were paintings, mostly sea-scapes with a few woodland and pastoral scenes. Gimli thought that he recognized a painting of Mithlond as identical to one that he’d once seen in the rooms of Elrohir Elrondion in Imladris. There were also well over a dozen portraits of elves, mostly blond and light-eyed.

Gimli recognized the dark-haired Sador, posed casually on the beach below Calasse’s house with his sister Celebrian and a taller ellon with silver hair, presumably their older brother Trevadir. Gimli also recognized the lady Calasse herself in several of the portraits. In one, she was sitting in a marble courtyard overlooking the sea with a handful of well-dressed elves, including an elegant elleth with silver-blond hair and cornflower blue eyes who looked somehow familiar to Gimli. In another, Calasse stood on another beach with the same elegant elleth, three golden haired ellyn, and a male and female elfling, who looked to be twins. The female elfling had gold-and-silver hair, and haunted cornflower blue eyes.

“My mother,” Sador said, pointing to the female elfling, “And Uncle Finrod my foster-father, her oldest brother, holding her. She was fourteen years old in that picture. For a human, that would be,” the handsome raven haired ellon tilted his head, “Five years old, in human years, I think.”

“Five and a half, actually,” Thandrin corrected, while Gimli wondered what had happened to his lady when she was so small, to put an ancient fear in her eyes. 

“Five point six, to be technical,” Lithidhren teased.

“Sador isn’t fond of mathematics,” Eryntheliel explained with a fond smile.

“And Thandrin isn’t fond of precision,” Lithidhren jested.

Thandrin laughed, and grabbed Lithidhren around the shoulders so that his younger brother couldn’t escape when Thrandrin then ruffled his brother’s long wheat-blond hair and elegant scholar’s braids.

“Stop, stop, you ape!” Lithidhren laughingly complained, though Gimli noticed that he very carefully put down his volume and quill, and that Thandrin let him.

“Trip him, ‘Ren!” Sador encouraged Lithidhren with a grin, “elbow him in the ribs!”

Lithidhren gamely tried, to his sister’s and even Legolas’ friendly encouragement. Gimli had to chuckle, as well. It was odd to see Legolas as part of a large family of his own, but the teasing and the mock wrestling . . . that was familiar to Gimli. Familiar to him from his time with Legolas, and with Aragorn and Faramir and Eldarion and Elboron, with Arwen or Eowyn or Mithiriel calling encouragement or admonishment instead of Eryntheliel. Even further back, it reminded Gimli of Kili teasing him, and Fili calling out friendly advice, while Aunt Dis or his mother Vala scolded all three of them about not breaking the furniture.

Thandrin managed to dance around Lithidhren’s attempt to trip him, but how much effort his younger brother had put forth seemed to please him. He left off mussing Lithidhren’s hair with a fond, “Good try, little brother,” a proud smile, and a hearty slap to Lithidhren’s back. Then Thandrin admonished, “But you need to spend less time with your books, and more time learning how to defend yourself!”

“Why should I need to?” Lithidhren retorted with a patient smile as he reordered his hair and elegant tunic, “When I have brave, strong peacekeepers like you and Sador to protect me?”

“Everyone should know how to protect themselves, Lithidhren,” said Legolas solemnly.

All three of his siblings and Sador turned to regard Legolas sadly.

“It’s not the same here as it is in Middle Earth, Legolas,” Eryntheliel said reassuringly, “There aren’t orcs in the wood.”

“Only tree-orcs,” Sador jested, until Eryntheliel gently elbowed him into silence. 

“But there are still dangers,” Thandrin disagreed sternly, “And peacekeepers can’t be everywhere.”

“I agree with Thandrin,” Sador said, serious now, “And Legolas, Gimli, I hope that the two of you will not let your martial skills lapse the way that my brother-by-law Elrond has.”

“But at the same time,” Eryntheliel argued, “It doesn’t have to be a full-time occupation, either. Not the way it was for Adar and his soldiers, or I assume for the two of you on Middle Earth.”

Gimli looked to Legolas, and then they both shrugged. Yes, it was a way of life for them to train every day. But they didn’t spend all day at it! Between wars, they’d spent more time working in the mines or the forest, or meeting with people and organizing new growth and trade. Legolas’ bow and Gimli’s axe were not the extent of their lives; but they were an inseparable part. Gimli couldn’t imagine giving up his axe. And he knew that no more could Legolas his bow.

All the other elves around them were wincing.

“Legolas, don’t do that,” Thandrin scolded.

“What?”

“That . . . gesture. With your shoulders. Gimli shouldn’t do it either.” Thandrin said seriously, “It’s low-class and vulgar.”

“What? Shrugging?” Legolas said incredulously, “I know that Ada and cousin Elrond don’t like it, but . . . vulgar?”

“It’s just not done, muindor-las.” Eryntheliel explained kindly, “You raise a hand instead.”

Gimli looked at Legolas again. Then, with matching grins, they shrugged again.

“Ah, my eyes!” Lithidhren exclaimed, comically covering them with his hands. Sador and Eryntheliel laughed, and even Thandrin smiled.

“Just try not to do it in public,” Thandrin advised.

“It’s that bad?” Legolas asked, “I know that Ada spent about a decade training it out of Theli, and I was careful not to shrug in front of Ada if I could help it, but . . .”

“You never told me that,” Gimli said, mildly surprised.

“Well, it was such a silly thing, Gimli,” Legolas defended himself, “It’s not as if it was a matter of substance.”

“Huh,” Gimli commented neutrally, “Well, I suppose that there are all sorts of things we must accustom ourselves too, brother-mine.”

“I’ll make a list,” Lithidhren offered kindly.

“Actually, I think that there may already be one,” Sador recalled, “I’ll ask my sister Celebrian about it. Her daughter, my niece Andreth, rules in Avallone. A list like that sounds like the type of thing that Avallone would prepare for elves newly arrived here in the West. Although most of them haven’t spent as much time around humans as the two of you have, and may not have picked up vulgar habits like shrugging. But for now,” Sador concluded with a rueful smile, “I am due to meet with my honored cousin Ereinion and the other Tol Eressean monarchs and their representatives.”

“What meeting?” Thandrin asked suspiciously, “Daerada didn’t mention one.”

“Why don’t you come and join me, and then you can find out,” Sador offered in a friendly fashion, “I don’t know what it’s about, either.”

Thandrin appeared torn. He looked to Legolas, and then back to Sador.

“It’s well enough with me, iaur muindor nin,” Legolas gently encouraged, “I am fine. I do think that I will rest for awhile, if we’re to greet the late stars on the sands tonight.”

“We’ll watch out for baby brother, Thandrin,” Lithidhren encouraged, “You go find out what is going on in the councils of the great and good. . .”

“So that you can tell us what’s going on,” Eryntheliel added, speaking almost in tandem with her twin brother as the Elrondionnath sometimes did.

“What about me?” Sador asked, putting his hand over his heart as if mortally wounded.

“Sador muin-nin, you’re a wonderful friend and from all I’ve seen a very capable peacekeeper, but you’re not much of a politician,” Eryntheliel remonstrated fondly, “for Thandrin can listen to the same speech as you and come away with fifteen more meanings than you get out of it.”

“Fair enough,” Sador conceded with yet another smile. He turned to gesture towards the door, allowing Thandrin to proceed him back into the hall way.

“Here, brother,” said Lithidhren to Legolas in the wake of their departure, “Let me show you your room. Gimli, yours even has the proper dwarven furniture.”

And it did. Two doors led out from the sitting room into bed chambers, and a third into a bathing chamber. Gimli’s room had thick carved wooden furniture that could have come from the royal apartments at Erebor, it was so well-crafted and familiar. And it was sized perfectly for the frame and weight of an adult dwarf.

The pictures that decorated his room were of the many dwarven kingdoms. The greatest number were of Khazad-dum, his ancestors’ ancient kingdom, and were beautiful in their intricate detail and variety. There were a few paintings and drawings of Erebor, and even several of Aglarond. Gimli could recognize the artist, a solitary fellow who spent most of his days capturing the scintillating beauty of the Glittering Caves.

All of the paintings were mounted in bi-fold leather frames. Now, on the walls of this chamber, both of the leather sides were folded in back against one another. But the pictures could easily be taken off the wall, unfolded so that they were completely encased in the protective leather, and then packed in a bag or a chest so that they could be taken on even a long journey without risk of damage. Gimli suspected that these drawings were his to keep, and were also gifts from Galadriel.

Opposite the bed was a medium sized closet, thrown open to reveal a wardrobe eminently suited to a dwarven lord. Oh, some of the pieces were a bit more simplistic or flowing than Gimli would have preferred, rather like an elf’s take on a dwarf’s clothing, but most were just about right. Archaic in style, but that was well enough. The old styles rarely went entirely out of fashion amongst dwarven kind.

By the closet was Gimli’s own worn oak chest, the same one he’d brought with him from Middle Earth. It had been opened and his clothing had been taken out to air in the closet, alongside what were presumably his new clothes, likely also gifts from Galadriel. Some of his clothes, those which had been most distressed by their long ocean voyage, had entirely disappeared. Presumably someone must have taken them away to clean them? Hopefully that worthy would reappear at some point, so that Gimli could thank him or her. And be sure to get the rest of his belongings back!

Several new, mostly empty chests and a brace of brand-new saddle bags were stacked beside Gimli’s oak chest. Together, the receptacles would give him more than enough storage to take all of his new clothes and paintings with him when he left this place. 

His examination of his temporary quarters completed, Gimli left to rejoin Legolas and his siblings in the cool and breezy sitting room. Eryntheliel and Legolas were laughing as Lithidhren related some story or another.

“So, what have I missed?” Gimli asked, pleased by how happy and relaxed Legolas appeared.

“The explanation for why Sador’s presence here has our older brother Thandrin’s tail in a twist,” Legolas offered with twinkling eyes.

“Legolas is unnecessarily dramatic,” said Eryntheliel with a self-conscious laugh, “Sador and I courted for a decade about a century ago. We parted as friends, and have stayed good friends, but Thandrin has never entirely forgiven Sador for . . . well, I’m not sure, exactly.”

“For having the audacity to court our sister,” Lithidhren explained with a twinkle in his blue eyes, “And then the poor taste to choose to stop, yet still remain familiar with Eryn and with me.”  
“Sador is good friends with Lithidhren’s lov . . . ah, I mean, dear friend,” Eryntheliel revealed, despite trying to catch herself. 

“Oh . . . Oh!” exclaimed Legolas in the tone of someone who was just now putting together a number of previously unconnected clues to form a coherent whole, “So that's what you were doing, when you spent so much time with that prince of Dale, and with Lieutenant Harphor!”

Lithidhren blushed and glared at his sister. But then, seeing that Legolas seemed to have no qualm with his brother having taken male lovers, seemed to relax a little.

Eryntheliel, observing this evidence of tolerance on their younger brother’s behalf, explained, “Yes, ‘Las-nin, it was. And Lithidhren could spend all the time with them that he liked, and now with his paramour as well. But I couldn't even be alone with Sador in a room for any length of time at all without someone coming to chaperone us. It's enough to drive a sister mad.” 

Now Lithidhren’s cautious look extended to Gimli. 

“Gimli won't care,” Legolas assured his brother, “We had good friends in Gondor who preferred spears to shields, so to speak. Theli and Mithiriel wouldn't mind either, for that matter. Their son Nestor has fallen in love with several ellyn over the years, and it never bothered them. He was fairly discreet about it, but many of us knew.”

“Did . . . did Ada know? About Theli and Mithiriel's son Nestor's preferences?” Lithidhren asked, with his heart seemingly in his throat. 

“I don't think so, I’m sorry to say, muindor-nin,” Legolas answered sympathetically, “But then, I never asked. It wasn't important then. But I don't think Ada would mind. You should talk to him about it, or Nana. Does she know?”

“No,” Eryntheliel answered for her twin, “Ren is afraid to tell her, and he asked me not to. Nana, or Thandrin.” 

“I’ve not trusted Thandrin to know, either,” Lithidhren said quietly, “He is so very . . . traditional. I worry that he would reject me, and it is not a chance that I am willing to take.” With a faint smile, Lithidhren confessed, “But Theli already knows. He caught me and Harphor once in, ah, intimate circumstances, and he never said anything about it to anyone other than us, at least not that I ever heard. He gave me and Harphor an embarrassingly frank how-to and what-to-avoid discussion that was very helpful, but absolutely mortifying at the time. Then Harphor left for patrol, and Theli made sure that I hadn't decided to train as a warrior to be with him or someone like him. I assured Theli that I hadn't, and that was mostly the end of it. I got the feeling that he supported us, though. How is Harphor, by the way?” 

“He was doing well, the last I saw him,” Legolas answered, “And a Captain, now. He’s not stepped out with anyone else, that I know of. Do you still have feelings for him? 

“No,” Lithidhren answered, “Or, well, I do still care for Harphor. Whether there would still be romantic feelings between us . . . I don't know. Our lives are so different, now. That, and, I'm courting someone else. Quietly, you know.” 

“Lithidhren’s sweetheart’s name is Elenyon,” Eryntheliel supplied, “He's a Vanyarin poet. A very nice ellon, and quite a good conversationalist, but rather vague about what year or season it is, from time to time.”

“Seems a good fit for our Lithidhren,” Legolas teased. 

“I am not that unaware of my surroundings!” Lithidhren retorted, tossing a pillow from the settee at his younger brother, before instructing, “But come, Tithen-Las. You should rest. And Eryntheliel has a swimming date with Daernaneth Neldiel and all the unconventional female set.” 

Lithidhren and Eryntheliel took their leave, but Legolas and Gimli didn’t need a rest so much as a chance to catch their breath in the quiet. Gimli felt near overwhelmed by all the strange sounds and smells of this new place. Let alone all the strangers! Strangers who were discordantly familiar. Like Thandrin, who had Legolas’ laugh. Or like Sador, with his mother Galadriel’s smile. How much stranger, Gimli wondered, must it be for Legolas?

“It’s odd,” Gimli’s elven brother said, taking a seat on the settee by the window, “On the one hand, it’s as if I don’t know them at all anymore. Thandrin, Lithidhren, and Eryntheliel, I mean. And on the other, it’s as if they are still the same. As if they just kept on growing, exactly who they were. As if the war and the battles never changed them.”

“They never did, brother of my heart,” Gimli quietly told him, “Your siblings were slain in cruelest violence. But then they were reborn here, where there is no war.”

Legolas looked up then, meeting Gimli’s eyes squarely, “But not no violence. Gimli, I think that something happened to Lithidhren here. Something that made him more afraid to tell Thandrin and our parents that he loves ellyn. Something that made even light-hearted Sador agree that Lithidhren needs to know how to defend himself. And something that Sador and Eryntheliel know about, but Thandrin and Naneth do not.”

“If that’s what you think, brother-mine, then may be some truth to it,” Gimli replied pensively, “for you’ve a knack for seeing through to the heart of things even on first impression. But I don’t think that’s something you can come right out and ask your Lithidhren.”

Legolas snorted like a dwarf, and then laughed, “No, you’re right about that. Lithidhren keeps things close to his chest. I’ll just have to pay attention, and wait.” Tilting his head thoughtfully, Legolas asked, “Now what is it that is troubling you, oh brother of my heart? Are you lonely?”

It was Gimli’s turn to snort, “Lonely? With you here? And your Lady Difficult and her laughing lord? No, Legolas, I’m not lonely. I’m not regretting any of my decisions. I’m worried about my Lady Galadriel. She doesn’t seem well.”

Quickly masking his relief, Legolas tilted his head again, “She doesn’t, I agree. I asked Eryntheliel about it. She says that mother thinks that some of Lady Galadriel’s frailty is a put-on, exaggerated for some purpose of her own.”

“I could not see her as a liar.”

“Not a lie, Gimli. Allowing people to see the frailty, and not the strength.”

“Well, perhaps. But only for a very good cause.”

“Of course,” Legolas agreed, “But it’s not the kind of thing one can just go up and ask her.”

“Huh,” said Gimli pensively, “Well, you know. I think I’ll do just that.”

“If she turns you into a frog,” Legolas teased, “I’ll make sure to ask my sister to give you a kiss, to turn you back into a dwarf.”

“Very funny, feather-head,” Gimli replied, lightly cuffing Legolas about the braids.

Legolas laughed and turned his attention back to the window. Gimli found his eyes going to the third door leading off from the sitting room.

“What’s this, then?” he asked Legolas.

“Hmm? Oh, a bathing chamber, I would suppose.” 

“Oh, is it, now?” Gimli opened the door, then whistled.

“What?”

“Well, let’s just say that Lady Calasse’s architect must have been taking notes based on the famous baths of Khand’s capital city.”

Intrigued, Legolas got up from the settee to crane his head around Gimli’s shoulder at the blue and green tiled room, brightly lit through large glazed windows. The bathtub was as almost as large as a stock pond.

“Well, isn’t this a fine place to have our first fresh water bath in Mahal-only-knows-how-long?” Gimli mused.

“Seven months, two weeks, three days, five hours, and thirty-six minutes,” Legolas helpfully supplied, “And that’s from Emyn Arnen.”

“Of course, you would know,” Gimli teased with only half-put on disgust as he walked over to turn on the tap, “Go on, then. Strip. There’s more than enough room in there for me and your skinny self.”

“I’m not skinny,” Legolas retorted, although he was already unlacing his tunic, “I’m lithe.”

“Lithe, skinny,” Gimli said, wasting no time in doffing his own clothes, “Either way, you smell of salt, as do I. A bath will cure that, at least.”

“And just in time for us to go have dinner on the beach and smell like salt again,” Legolas noted, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“Do you want to wait for your turn then?”

“I didn’t say that, Gimli.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Note: I have several more draft chapters before concluding this story, and a short follow-up planned with Gimli and Galadriel. However, I feel the need to work on other stories for awhile, so it may be some time before I come back to this one. My thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and given me more ideas for stories in the West!


End file.
